#he's too handsome and I am going to perish

[iliothermia]

I started to color him and it's game over y'all

I can't survive this

[ninibeingdelulu]

Am I in love with just a theme ? ✧

Plot: You watch your boyfriend becoming a serial killer…

An eerie hush permeated the modest bedroom save for the scratching of Light's pen etching yet another convicted criminal's name into that innocuous black notebook.

You couldn't tear your gaze away, stomach roiling in uneasy revulsion at how...casually he wielded such monstrous power these days.

Like some self-appointed deity passing judgment with a flick of his wrist.

This merciless, arrogant demigod bore only the barest fleeting resemblance to the brilliant yet tenderhearted boyfriend you once adored.

Since acquiring the Death Note's insidious abilities, your Light had steadily devolved into a twisted shell of his former self, driven by an all-consuming messiah complex.

You barely recognized him anymore - the Light you knew would've recoiled in horror over such wanton slaughter, dismissing the very notion as abhorrent. These days? He didn't so much as blink as person after person perished at his whim, swaths of human lives extinguished with infuriatingly casual indifference.

Swallowing thickly, you finally found your voice. Hesitant, yet brimming with desperation to reach whatever tattered remnants of the man you loved still lurked beneath Kira's pitiless exterior.

"Light?"

When those russet eyes flickered up towards you, glacial and utterly devoid of warmth, the words shriveled in your throat for an agonizing heartbeat.

Plunging onwards with a strained exhale, you barrelled through before your nerve could crumble entirely.

"Why don't you just...pass the notebook off to someone else?" Achingly wistful, you curled your arms across your midsection like a flimsy shield.

"You don't...you don't have to keep doing this yourself. We could go back to how things were before and-"

"Enough." Light cut you off with a curt growl, snapping the Death Note closed with a dull thud that made you flinch.

Abruptly he stood, stalking towards the bed with leonine grace yet stiff, clipped movements radiating frigid menace. Too late, you shrank from his imposing form looming over you now.

Face to face, scarcely inches apart, you could see the fanatical glint smoldering behind those impassive, handsome features.

A shudder slithered down your vertebrae under his unnerving scrutiny.

"I can't let this power slip into anyone else's hands."

The words emerged through gritted teeth, a muscle feathering along Light's taut jawline.

"I was chosen to become the God of this new world, to execute divine justice and establish true order with my own hands. No one else is worthy."

An errant tear slipped from the corner of your eye, tracing a glistening trail down your cheek in the tense standoff's wake. You tried valiantly to fortify your resolve, to not flinch away from the sheer gravity of that unnervingly cold, callous resolution etched into his very marrow.

But it was too much.

"Light, please..."

The words gurgled out in a desperate rasp, thick with anguished pleading and unshed tears.

"I love you, b-but I can't keep watching as you lose every shred of your humanity like this! If you won't give up that thing, then...then I have to go. I can't stay by and watch this anymore!"

At the achingly soft admission spilling through your wobbling lips, Light's expression didn't flicker for a protracted, agonizing heartbeat.

But then his mouth curled into the ghost of a smirk, utterly devoid of genuine mirth - just cruel, calculating self-assurance.

"Go ahead and try," he crooned with scathing disinterest, callused fingers seizing a rough fistful of your hair to forcibly tilt your face up towards his. Tears spilled freely now, sobs raking your trembling frame.

"You don't honestly think I'd let you walk away with everything you know about me still intact, do you?"

The icy finality behind those mocking words washed over you in a suffocating wave, stealing what little tenuous purchase on hope you still possessed.

You sagged, terror-fuelled adrenaline rapidly leaching away into numb hopelessness and misery.

Without ceremony, Light shoved you away with a scoff, leaving you sprawled across the mattress amidst your pitiful puddle of grief.

With a few perfunctory swipes of his sleeve across those chiseled features, he'd already vanished whatever fleeting glimpses of genuine emotion had flickered there just moments ago.

"You'll stay right here, powerless and silent as my humble concubine," the words emerged crisp, cold, and utterly inflexible as he returned to the Death Note splayed open in indifferent expectation.

"Embrace your purpose, devote yourself to watching over the birth of a new utopia...or perish like any other obstacle beneath my heel."

Through a fresh torrent of searing tears, you could only bring yourself to rasp out a pitiful whimper of surrender.

Beaten. Broken.

Any facade of control or dignity had long fled along with the better parts of Light's withering soul.

Beneath the weight of sickening realization settling like a shroud, darkness crept across your vision as the soft scratching of pen against paper resumed.

You were well and truly his hapless pawn now.

[mournivaldisco]

Sanguinius and Horus being entirely normal about each other, a quote post

In roughly chronological order.

(LONG. Apologies for the terrible mobile formatting)

Mortarion’s primarch novel:

The two of them have been sent to find out what Mortarion is up to with his, uh, unconventional methods of compliance.

[Horus] grimaced and placed a hand on the Angel’s shoulder. ‘Our judgement must not be rushed, though. I understand the temptation. Believe me, I feel it too. That, I am convinced, is why our father sent us to meet with Mortarion. We can check each other’s first impulses without causing offence.’

‘You think we can check Mortarion’s too?’

[…]

‘I think it is good that we have our time to think about that before Mortarion arrives.’

Sanguinius smiled. ‘The better to check our first impulses?’

Horus smiled back. ‘I do think it’s best that we greet him calmly, don’t you?’

(No, I don’t know why this sounds like they are going to bang in the meantime.)

Mortarion is pissed off that the two of them in particular are there: Sanguinius and Horus were so close. Mortarion felt a bond with Horus, but he knew it was not as strong as the one that joined Horus to the Angel. He was facing a united front, whether or not the other two would admit it, even to themselves.

He has a point; they are basically finishing each other’s sentences during their cameo in this novel: [Mortarion:] ‘I have nothing to hide.’

‘We don’t mean to imply you do,’ said Horus.

‘It’s not your honesty that concerns us,’ said Sanguinius.

---

The flashback to Melchior in Fear to Tread:

[Sanguinius]: ‘I must content myself with merely being the better warrior.’

‘Don’t make me pluck those wings,’ Horus retorted.

‘Perish the thought!’ said Sanguinius. ‘Without them I’d only be as handsome as you are.’

‘That would be tragic,’ Horus agreed.

(guys are you flirting right now)

They both express that they are sad they can’t spend more time together: ‘I confess I would relish the opportunity to share the battlefield with you again,’ Sanguinius went on. ‘And not just that. I miss our conversations.’

Horus’ frown deepened. ‘One day we will be done with all this […] Then we can talk and play regicide to our hearts’ content.’

Ohhh nooo

Horus Rising

When Sang first arrives on Murder: “[Horus] stepped forwards and embraced Sanguinius to his breast. No two primarchs were as close as the Warmaster and the Angel. They had barely been out of each other’s company since Sanguinius’ arrival.”

Horus is determined to go into battle personally on Murder. “Loken was sure that Sanguinius was the reason. Horus could not bring himself to stand by and watch his dearest brother go to war. Horus could not resist the temptation of fighting shoulder to shoulder with Sanguinius, as they had done in the old days.

Horus would not let himself be outshone, even by the one he loved most dearly.”

During a discussion about the interex: “Sanguinius said nothing. He allowed his Chapter Master to weigh in with the opinion of the Blood Angels, but kept his own considerable influence for Horus’ ears alone.”

Making each other giggle:

“[Horus:] ’And it seems my wisest option is to return to Terra and confront the Council on the issue of taxation.’

Sanguinius sniggered.”

The scene which comes immediately after the infamous ‘on his knees and not above a whisper’ moment, where Sanguinius appears in Horus’ chambers having eavesdropped on his conversation with Loken and Aximand. It gives very ‘I was just hanging out in my boyfriend’s bedroom in a robe, eating cherries, like ya do’ vibes.

“Sanguinius stood in an archway at the far end of the chamber, behind a veil of white silk. He had been listening. The Lord of Angels brushed the silk hanging aside, and stepped into the stateroom, the crests of his wings brushing the glossy material. He was dressed in a simple white robe, clasped at the waist with a girdle of gold links. He was eating fruit from a bowl.

Loken and Aximand stood up quickly.

‘Sit down,’ Sanguinius said. ‘My brother’s in the mood to open his heart, so you had better hear the truth.’

‘I don’t believe-‘ Horus began. Sanguinius scooped one of the small, red fruits from his bowl and threw it at Horus.

‘Tell them the rest,’ he sniggered.

Horus caught the thrown fruit, gazed at it, then bit into it. He wiped the juice off his chin with the back of his hand[…]

‘Sanguinius, my dear brother, is right, for Sanguinius has always been my conscience.’

Sanguinius shrugged, an odd gesture for a giant with furled wings.”

Loken’s POV:

“Two days earlier, Primarch Sanguinius had finally taken his leave and returned to Imperial territory with the Blood Angels contingents. Horus clearly hated to see him go, but it was a prudent move, and one Sanguinius had chosen to make simply to buy his brother more time with the interex.”

Later in Fear to Tread, Horus’ choice of messenger to Sang is… interesting:

An unnaturally tall female clad from head to foot in robes of a strange, sheer material […] beneath the shapeless robes she wore nothing else.

‘Horus Lupercal’s message is for his brother’s eyes only. The meme-blocks in my psyche and the telepathic codes holding my aura closed will only dissolve…’ She released a sigh, gazing dreamily at the primarch. ‘When we are alone.’

Sanguinius was like marble for the longest moment, his face unreadable.

[he agrees]

The primarch reached out and raised her chin with his fingertips, making her meet his gaze. ‘You’re a curious one,’ he offered. ‘What has made my brother send you to me, mamzel?’

‘I would not like to guess,’ she breathed, fingering a silver clasp upon her robes.

[…] ‘I am not divine, sayeth the angel.’ She reached out, daring to touch the trailing edge of his folded wings beneath the mail cloak.

To deliver the message, she of course has to strip off. I can only imagine Sang at this point thinking he has basically been sent a strip-o-gram.

The End and the Death. Ohhh boy. (I’m trying to avoid real plot spoilers so these are mostly out of context quotes)

Ways in which Horus describes Sang in this book, sometimes within a few pages:

Sanguinius, whom you’ve always loved

The beautiful Angel

He was the only other choice [for Warmaster]. Can I tell you a secret? He would have been my choice. I love all my brothers, but my love for Sanguinius is particular. […] You must meet him. He will take your breath away.

Back in the day, you adored him because you thought him fearlessly brave. But it was effortless back then. To see him now, fighting on despite his mortal dread of you, you understand that he has become fearfully brave. That is impressive. It makes you love him a little more.

He’s taunting you […] You thought he was better than that. You thought, in fact, that he was perfect. [It] makes him seem juvenile, and you don’t want to think of him that way. He’s Sanguinius. You’ve always loved him.

He’s got a little left. A little strength. A little speed. More than you expected. He deserves his fame. […] Oh, he’s good. Even now. Still trying.

The dreams were real. Your favourite brother should have heeded them.

He sees himself as the last good man standing. The last loyal son. The last bastion of noble valour, fighting to the death in his father’s name, refusing to submit. That’s why you love him. It is painfully heroic. It is the quintessence of what he is.

Before Sang finds Horus, A Character explains to him that ‘You don’t know if you want to [kill him], because it’s Horus.’ […] and that the pain he feels is not his wounds, but grief for the loss of Horus as he knew him. Sang says ‘I couldn’t see it. Now you say it, I do. I miss him very much. So very much.’

The same Character: ‘Join him? He’d love that. He loves you.’

Sooo as if that wasn’t heartbreaking enough -

Their first words to one another:

Horus: ‘Brother.’ […] My brother. My dear brother. I waited for you for so long. You have come, as I hoped you would. I have missed you. […] My heart is full that this is the choice you made.’

Sanguinius: ‘And my heart is full to see you again. […] Despite all that has taken place. I have mourned the loss of my brother Horus. I would not have let this monstrous war end without seeing you, with my own eyes, one last time.’

Horus tries to convince Sang to join him straight away. ‘Make a wise choice, my dear brother. I have longed for your company.’

When Sang declines: A single tear wells from his eye and trickles down his cheek. ‘Pity,’ he says.

Sang’s POV (a passage which has such Vibes that I immediately wrote a fic based on That Intimate Knowledge):

He knows Horus, just as he knows the Vengeful Spirit. He knows his brother’s secret levels and concealed flaws, because Horus taught them to him. In those far-off days before the shadow fell, Horus shared everything with his angel-brother. That intimate knowledge, granted without vanity or hesitation, has allowed Sanguinius to penetrate the most formidable flagship in the Imperium. It will also lead him to his brother’s heart.

Horus wanting to turn Sang to his side rather than kill him, against the wishes of the chaos gods:

You’re still holding back a little. He doesn’t have to die. When that instant of recognition finally hits him, you’ll give him one last chance to reconsider his position.

He will see, at the very last, the way things truly are. An epistemological revelation. Weeping in joy, he will beg you for forgiveness.

And you will, in your infinite mercy, grant it to him. It will be the greatest moment of his life, and the sweetest victory of yours.

At what point will he realise that everything he’s doing is utterly pointless? How beautiful will that moment of recognition be? You want to see that futility dawning in his eyes. Close up. Face to face. You want to smell it on his breath.

(calm down Horus)

Once futility has broken him, you will lift him up again. You will carry him to the throne you have prepared for him, and invite him to sit there and rest. He will have played his part, and done all he could. There’ll be no shame in saying yes to you then.

He is your favourite. Always has been. You want him with you, because that will mean something. […] To break him, to bend him to your will, now that’s a true triumph. The embodiment of Imperial loyalty, cowed at your feet, feeding from your hand, pledging his devotion. Look upon that, father.

(excuse me Horus but feeding from your hand???)

Sooo there we have the sheer vibes of the final fight featuring Horus constantly narrating how much he loves Sang. My face went through so many permutations of expressions while reading it for the first time.

[m-jelly]

The Crow's Song - Ending

Prince Levi x Witch Reader

Royal Romance with magic.

Court day and Jane shows her madness is deep. The baby arrives and you learn the fate of Vance. A cute moment with your husband and the new little princess.

Ao3

The judge moved papers around on his desk. He released a long sigh and looked up. “Everyone all settled in?” He smiled as people responded. “Lovely. Duke Erwin, you are representing the Prince and Princess. Are you okay? You have everything.”

Erwin rose to his feet. “We’re okay over here.”

“Good.” He leaned and eyed you to see Levi had almost wrapped himself around you. “Your Highnesses, are you okay? If you need to step out, you are welcome to.”

Levi bowed his head. “Thank you.”

He looked over at Countess Layla to see she was pouting hard. “Countess, please behave yourself okay?”

She huffed. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you. I don’t want a fight in my courtroom today.”

She folded her arms. “Fine, fine.”

He released a long sigh. “Now, normally we have the King and Queen, but the two of them are currently occupied with having a strong word with King Rowen. So, we will do our best.” He shuffled in his seat. “Alright, quiet in court. I am Judge Robert Stevens, I will be presiding over this case along with the next one.” He sighed. “First, this is their Highnesses vs Lady Jane Applegate. Please bring in Lady Jane Applegate.”

All eyes moved to the side of the room where the stairs down to the cells resided. The wooden seats creaked as people shifted to look. The insane screams and shouts were initially quiet but were getting closer. Everyone present was getting very nervous and uncomfortable, it was hard to hear someone screaming and shouting so much like they were some possessed being.

The guards dragged Jane by her upper arms. Normally, people would go to a dock, but she was volatile so they chained her to a post behind bars in a cell alone. As they put her in her spot, the two guards had to wrangle her like a wild animal. She thrashed and moved a moment but paused as soon as she spotted Levi.

Jane lit up with joy. “Levi! Levi, my love! I knew you’d save me!”

Levi hugged you tightly and rubbed your baby bump. “The baby okay?”

You looked up at him as Jane kept shouting. “Yeah. They’re moving a bit.”

Levi placed his hand on your hump and smiled. “I can feel them. They’re comforting us.�� He kissed your temple. “You are so beautiful.”

You gazed at him. “My handsome man.”

He kissed you causing Jane to scream bloody murder. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Judge Robert Stevens slammed his gavel. “Lady Jane Applegate, you will hold your tongue until I say you can speak. Do you understand me?”

Jane lowered her head. “I do, but he’s mine.”

“Right, now let’s begin.”

You gripped Levi’s thigh and turned your head to him. “I’m tired.”

Levi squeezed you. “Do you want to leave?”

You hummed. “I…I don’t know.”

“We’ll do anything you need.”

You released a long sigh. “It’s okay. We need to be here. I need to be here.” You looked ahead as Erwin talked about the case. “Just seems so…odd. I know she’ll never get better and she’s a bad person. I dunno, it’s just odd that we’re in court and closing this chapter in our lives.”

Levi kissed the side of your head. “I understand.”

Judge Robert sighed. “Lady Jane, your plea in this was rather confusing. So, please state your case.”

Jane smiled as she shuffled. “Thank you. I admit I attacked the witch.”

“The princess.”

“Witch.”

Judge Robert sighed. “Please refer to her with her correct title.”

Jane gritted her teeth. “This is what I’m talking about! That title is mine! I’m the princess! I was meant to meet the prince at a ball. He’d fall in love with my sweet innocence and purity. That witch was supposed to be the villainess in my story. I was supposed to be married to him!”

“Lady Jane. Please, lower your voice.”

Jane launched towards you. “You were supposed to die by my hand in that bedroom! That evil spawn inside you was supposed to perish. I’m meant to have a blessed baby with the prince! You both need to die so this world can be fixed! You’re killing it all.”

Judge Robert slammed his gavel. “Order! Order! Lady Jane, never in all my years have I met someone as delusional as you. This is not some magical book that pulled you in. This is real life and you almost killed an innocent woman. According to Duke Erwin, Prince Levi was the one who chased the princess for romance and marriage.”

“She put a spell on him!” She locked eyes with you. “You’re a disgusting monster! Your baby is trash!”

Levi reached over and covered your ears. He glared at Jane as she carried on screaming. He looked down at you and smiled softly. He mouthed to you. “I love you so much.”

You smiled brightly and mouthed back. “Love you.”

He leaned his head and kissed you. He moved his hands from your ears. “Sorry, I didn’t want you to hear what she had to say.”

You hugged Levi. “Thank you.”

Judge Robert shook his head. “Unbelievable and delusional. Lady Jane, you need serious psychological assistance. I believe the best course of action is to give you life but provide you with mental health assistance.”

You winced a little. “Ah.”

Levi panicked a bit. “Bunny?”

You hummed and rubbed your belly. “Baby kicked. I could do with some fresh air.”

Levi slipped out of his seat and then guided you out of court as Jane started shouting about her fate. He found a little spot for you by a water fountain. “How is this?”

You nodded. “It’s perfect.”

Levi stopped you from sitting. “Wait.” He dragged his blazer off and lay it down. “There, now you can sit.”

You hummed a laugh and sat down. “You’re so cute.”

He crouched in front of you and massaged the back of your legs. “We don’t have to be here, okay? We can go home and sort out the baby’s room.” He rested his chin on your lap. “Erwin will update us.”

You released a long sigh. “But I want to be seen as strong.”

“Darling, you are strong. You faced off against Jane and Vance.” He placed his hands on your belly. “You are making an adorable little baby.”

You giggled. “You always know how to make me smile.”

He tilted his head and kissed you. “I want to make you smile as much as possible.”

“You’re a wonderful husband.” You caressed his cheek. “Can we go home?”

“Yes.”

He helped you to your feet. “Let's get home, have a hot chocolate and snuggle up a bit.”

“I think that’s the perfect plan.”

You couldn’t stop crying, it was just a perfect love-filled moment. Your darling daughter had just been born, your body was a mess but you were so happy at how plump and lively she was. You looked up at Levi sitting next to you to see he was crying just as much as you. “Levi.”

He wrapped an arm around you and kissed your temple. “You are amazing. She’s perfect.” He sobbed a bit. “She’s so chunky.”

Kuchel hurried over to you and dabbed your forehead. “You have an incredibly healthy baby girl.”

You sniffed. “Daisy, she’s called Daisy.”

Levi kissed your cheek. “Princess Daisy Ackerman. It’s beautiful.”

Your mother reached for Daisy. “Can I take her? She needs cleaning.”

You handed your baby over. “Okay.”

Levi hugged you. “Bunny, I’m going to try and heal you with my magic, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay, as long as Daisy is okay.”

Levi helped you lie down on the bed. “She’s fine. She’s in good hands.” He placed his hand on your pelvis and the side of your face. “Relax a bit, okay?” He sighed as he sent his magic into you. “Let me know if you feel sick.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into Levi’s touch. “Mm, it feels so warm and cosy.”

Levi leaned over and kissed your forehead. “I’m glad it feels good.”

You opened your eyes and gazed at him. “Kiss.”

He kissed you. “You get all the kisses.”

You winced. “Mm, stop.”

He pulled back from you. “I’ve healed a lot. You just need one more session. You did well.”

You smiled brightly. “Thanks. Can you help me sit up? I want to hold Daisy when she’s back.”

“Of course, but I think it’s best we move you to a new bed.”

“Really?”

He nodded and scooped you up into his arms. “The bed is a bit of a mess.”

You looked down to see what he was talking about. “All that came out of me?”

“Don’t look at it. Focus on me.”

You smiled at Levi. “Okay.”

He carried you to your shared bedroom and straight to the bathroom. “I think a bath would be good.”

You sighed a bit. “Yeah.”

“I know, I know, you want Daisy but you need a nice bath and new clothes. Daisy is being checked and cleaned by our mothers.”

You smiled a bit. “I hope she’s healthy.”

“She is.” He removed your dress and sat you in the bath. He started delicately scrubbing you. “Is the water okay?”

“It’s making me tired. So, it’s perfect.”

“I’m glad.” He carried on cleaning you before lifting you out of the bath, drying you and placing you in a new night dress. “Cute.”

You hugged your husband. “Thank you. You’ve been unbelievable.”

He carried you to the bed and tucked you in. “I just want to take care of you, that’s all.” He kissed your cheek. “Now, I’m off to get our precious little girl. You going to be okay without me for a bit?”

You nodded and pulled at the bedsheets. “I think so.”

“I’ll hurry.”

You waved to Levi as you sat in bed alone. You lowered your hand and hummed in thought. It was odd to not have a baby moving inside you anymore, there was just this emptiness and an aching in your body from delivering her. It felt weird to be alone as well. In the last two months of your pregnancy, you were never left alone. Your labour was a full day and even more people were around you, but now you were alone and you felt.

Empty.

For a long time, you were alone and had no one, you were by yourself and then you dated Vance and it was impossible to get away from him. When you broke up with Vance, you were alone again and it brought you some sense of peace. Levi walked into your life and you hadn’t been alone for years because of him. Levi changed your little world into a bigger one full of life, laughter, friends and love. So, sitting alone in a room after giving birth, was hard.

You didn’t like being alone.

Levi softly opened the door with a smile on his face and Daisy carefully held against him. “She is clean. She is healthy and she has done a poop already.” He chuckled. “The doctor said he’s never known a baby to be so active and healthy and that you must have fed her well.” He looked up at you and his smile dropped. “Sweet bunny witch wifey?”

You rubbed your tears away. “Sorry, I was just thinking that I used to be so lonely, but you’ve made my life and world so much better. I’m not alone anymore.” You sobbed a bit. “Being in here without you or anyone, I just missed that liveliness around me.”

He hurried over to you. “Oh, sweet spell bunny.” He sat and showered your face with kisses. “I love you so much. You’re so cute.”

You sniffed. “You’re cuter.”

He smiled softly. “I agree though. Before finding you, life was lonely. I’m so glad I have you.” He looked down at Daisy sleeping. “Look what you made.”

“We.” You played with Levi’s hair. “We made her.”

“I was all you.”

You hummed a laugh. “Levi, I did need your cum to make her.”

He blushed a bit. “True, but you baked her like a little cute loaf she is.”

You reached down and lightly touched her puffy cheek. “Okay, you win.” You sighed. “She is so cute. Did she really do a poop already?”

“Yeah, was a deadly one.”

You leaned down and inhaled. “Mm, she smells so good though.”

“Like baked goods.”

You laughed. “She is a baked good.”

Levi leaned over and kissed you. “You’ll never be alone again, okay?”

“Thank you.”

He looked down as Daisy shifted and whined. “I think she’s hungry. Are you okay to feed her? It’s okay if you’re tired, we have milkies back up.”

You moved your dress down. “I’m good to go.”

Levi moved Daisy into your arms and helped you a little. “There we go.”

You smiled as Daisy latched on and started drinking. “Oh, thank goodness she latched on.”

Levi wrapped his arm around you. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You yawned a bit. “I’m tired.”

He squeezed you. “I know, I know, but just a little longer and then you can nap.”

“Mm.” You pated Daisy’s bum. “She’s doing so well.”

“You’re doing good as well.”

“I guess I am.” You pulled Daisy from your chest. “Could you burp her?”

Levi happily took his daughter. “I’d be honoured.”

You slipped down in bed and sighed. “I’ve never felt this exhausted.”

“Well, you did bring a little…well…” He looked at Daisy. “She’s not little, she’s a chunky flower. Anyway…” He smiled at you. “You did bring a chunky baby into the world and you can’t use magic, everyone has been around you so much. Oh, and finally Vance has been sentenced.”

You gripped the sheets. “He has?”

Levi rocked Daisy. “Yeah. I guess I should have told you. He was sentenced.”

“What…what happened?”

“He’s been banished to an island. He’s had his magic taken from him. He’ll be made to work on the island with others. They haven’t healed him so his arm is back.”

You stared at Levi. “Let me guess, you asked them not to?”

He pouted. “That hand touched you!” He gasped when Daisy whined at him raising his voice. “Shh, it’s okay, little flower. Daddy got angry at a poohead.”

You giggled as Daisy settled down. “All better.”

Levi slipped down into bed and lay Daisy on his chest. “I’ll do the first shift. You sleep as much as possible, okay?”

You hummed. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Darling spell bunny, you pushed this chunky thing out of you. You need rest. Leave it to me. If she needs feeding, I will wake you.”

You rubbed Levi’s arm. “Thank you.”

Levi lightly held your hand as his other rested on his daughter. He smiled softly as his whole body relaxed. He rested his eyes a moment but Daisy getting fussy woke him up. He worried she was hungry because you were in a deep sleep but then he smelt it. “Oh, you pooped big time, huh?”

He slipped out of bed and took his daughter to her room. He cleaned her up and changed her. As soon as he left his room he saw his parents and yours. He showed Daisy to them and enjoyed the fuss they were making of her. He gave them an update on how you were doing and accepted their offer to take some shifts so the two of you could get some sleep. He handed his daughter over to your mother and bid them farewell for now.

He dragged his tired body down the hall and back to the bedroom. He paused when you sat looking exhausted. “Love.”

You opened your arms to him. “Come here.”

He hurried over, climbed into bed and spooned with you. “Mm.”

“Daisy with our parents?”

“They offered and said we need sleep.”

You cuddled Levi. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Levi hummed. “Plus, you need me.”

“I always need you.”

“Me too.”

Daisy sat on her blanket in the ballroom, her favourite blanket in her hand and her eyes locked onto you as you flew around. She squealed with laughter. “Ma, ma, ma!”

You floated over to her. “I’m here, little flower. Stay there for mummy.” You flew up and lined the walls with more decorations. “There.”

Daisy slapped her hands on the floor and began crawling to you. “Eh! Ma, ma, ma.”

Levi entered the ballroom with a few boxes. “I have those decorations from my welcoming ceremony. I can’t believe we’re using what my mother used for me for Daisy. Makes me feel so warm inside. I just know everyone will love Daisy.”

You hummed a laugh. “It’s very cute. This place went from baby Levi to baby Daisy.”

Levi placed the boxes down and saw his daughter crawling. “Oop, we have an escaped bunny.” He used his crows to grab her by the back of her onesie, lift her and bring her to him. “Got you.”

Daisy squealed in delight and clapped her little hands. “Aboo!”

Levi chuckled. “That’s right, aboo.”

She looked up and smiled. “Ma!”

Levi smiled at his daughter. “That’s right, it’s mummy.”

You flew down and fixed your dress. “Sorry, since getting my powers back I just want to use them all the time.” You made lights sparkle for Daisy. “I love my magic because it led me to you.”

“I love your magic too.”

You kissed Daisy’s cheek and then Levi. “Could you watch her for a bit? I’ll finish off decorating.”

Levi carried his daughter over to her blanket and sat. “Looks like it’s you and me kiddo.”

Daisy patted Levi’s cheek. “Bah.”

“That so?” He sat her on his lap and picked up her favourite toy. He wiggled the little toy at her making her giggle. “I’m a happy little crow, hop, hop, hop.” He used it to kiss her nose. “I protect you and mummy.”

She clapped her hands. “Mm.”

He lifted it and made it dance. He summoned some of his magical crows and made them dance too. “Little crow party for my little baby.”

She wiggled on her bum. “Ah!” She reached for a shadow crow, but fell forward and hit her head. “Uh…” She welled up. “Oooow.”

He scooped her up and held her as she cried a little. “It’s okay.” He kissed her forehead. “You got a little boo boo, huh?” He picked up her toy crow. “Here you go.”

She grabbed her toy and hugged it. “Mm.”

He cuddled her and kissed the top of her head a few times. “Better?”

She patted and pulled at the doll. She stopped and sighed. “Mm.”

“Big sigh for a little girl.”

You landed on your feet and smiled. “I think she’s probably hungry.”

Levi adjusted her in his arms. “Let’s get you something to eat, huh?”

You sat down and grabbed a food pot from your bag. “Here.”

“Thank you.” He took the pot and spoon from you. He fed Daisy and smiled as she happily ate and wiggled. “You are very hungry, huh?”

“She eats a lot. I’m glad she does.” You cleaned her face a little. “Each day I hope that she’s healthy.”

“She’s healthy.” He gave her a drink before helping her burp. “All better. I think we’ll have a little play now, huh?” He placed her down and watched her crawl. “I feel like it’s she’ll be running circles around us in no time.”

You hummed a laugh. “It’s hard to think she’ll be growing up into an adult one day.”

Levi flopped onto your lap and whined. “No, she’d not allowed.”

You played with Levi’s hair. “She has to.” You watched Daisy crawl around and then move towards Levi. “She’s coming back for you.”

Daisy crawled over and petted Levi’s head. “Da, da, da.”

Levi smiled. “Thank you.”

She hummed then noticed you and squealed in delight. “Ma! Mm!”

You picked her up and kissed her face. “Hello, my little flower.”

Levi sat up and smiled. “You know, I couldn’t have asked for anything better in life.”

You grinned at him. “I feel the same way.”

“We have a very long life together. The next major step is being King and Queen when my father steps down.” He moved closer. “Can you handle that?”

“Me? Handle work, you and this one? Easy.” You smirked. “Just watch me. I’m a woman who sets her mind to achieve things and gets them. I mean, I got you.”

Levi chuckled. “You really did get me.”

“What about you?”

He released a long sigh. “With you by my side? I can do anything.”

[quixoticall]

The View Between Villages

Summary: Steve Harrington offers to be your ghostly tour guide after your mysterious, unexpected death.

AN: Hiiiii, if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been then, first of all thank you for thinking of me, and secondly, I have been sick with bronchitis for weeks. Tbh I never understood in Regency novels where they would make such a huge deal about someone being sick until now. That shit took me out. Anyway, in my convalescence I watch the show, School Spirits and I couldn’t help but see the similarities between Wally and Steve—both men of the 80s, hot labrador retriever jocks with a compulsive need for parental approval? So, that’s how this lil piece was born. I would love to continue writing in this universe so please, if you have any requests, send them in! In the meantime, I am hard at work on This Could Get Ugly and a lovely lil Eddie number inspired by another Noah Kahan song.

Warnings: School Spirit!AU, Major Character Death, talks about own death, brief mention of violence and death, angst, this is sad! Ghost!Steve and Ghost?Reader

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

WC: 2K

It’s Steve Harrington who first declares you dead. Admittedly it takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize, it wasn’t like they sent out notices for these types of things either, as convenient as a note would’ve been:

To Whom it May Concern:

We regret to inform you that on February 12 of this year, you will unfortunately perish under unclear circumstances in the city of Chicago, Illinois at Northwestern University. Please make sure to get your affairs in order before the set date.

No, none of that, instead you had attended three whole lectures before noticing that no one was acknowledging you—not your professors when you raised your hand; not your classmates when you asked if they could loan you a pencil; not even your best friend when you ran into him in the hall. You thought it could’ve been a weird prank. Then the news began to spread, you were missing. Reported by your roommate after not having come home from a late-night study session at the library. And then they found traces of blood in the boiler room of the library’s basement.

Still, you thought to yourself, maybe you were having a really long terrible dream. Or maybe you were in a coma. Or doing one of those VR headset things. Or maybe you were dead and cursed to spend the rest of eternity haunting the very campus where you died.

Your friends were never the gym type, which is why you end up at the school’s pool in an effort to avoid the pain and desperation you feel every time you see their tired but still-hopeful faces.

That’s where you see him. Or, more importantly, where he sees you. You first spot him sitting at the edge of the pool, observing the ongoing swim team practice and are immediately struck.

Sure, you may be stuck in some weird reality where you may or may not be dead but you can still appreciate a hot person. Especially one as handsome as Pool Guy who’s striped swim trunks sit low on his hips and he has a smattering of dark hair trailing from his belly button almost up to the base of his neck. Thick, chestnut-colored hair swoops in his handsome face in golden-touched waves and gracefully frame a pair of honey-hued eyes. Of course you were going to stare.

You’re sure you stare for an indecent amount of time, but it wasn’t like that mattered, you remind yourself, you’re invisible to him like you are to everyone else.

Except you’re not invisible to him because Pool Guy was making eye contact and worse, he was waving, solidifying the fact that he is very aware of your presence. He can see you.

“Hi, you must be new here. I’m Steve Harrington, class of ‘86,” he introduces himself, with way too much verve once he swims over to where you’re still frozen in place.

“You can see me?” You ask, once you find your voice, “How can you see me?”

You reach out to grasp his offered hand and to your shock, your fingers don’t go straight through his, like it would with anyone else’s. Instead you’re enveloped in the warm solid grasp of his hand.

He cracks a smile at this, “because I’m dead too. Which, I totally get you’re probably wondering how someone this good-looking could’ve died so young but i will—“

“Dead?” you squeak out.

“Sorry,” he says with an awkward grimace, “I know not everyone likes that term, um, how do you identify—?“

You cut him off once again, “I didn’t know I was dead.”

It’s his turn to be confused.

“Really? Most people are really quick about putting it together. When they see their body the memories all come back. I mean even I put it together and I was never the smartest even before the accident—oh, shit. You’re the missing girl. The one from all the flyers.”

Clearly he’s referencing the myriad HAVE YOU SEEN ME? flyers with your face on them that paint the campus. Up until now, you had been categorically missing not dead, and now that someone has spoken your fate out loud, you’re certain it is all but sealed.

“Listen, I am so sorry. Let me go get someone who’s way better at this than I—“ you cut off his apologetic rambling,

“I need to leave right now.”

Before he can say anything else you’re running in the opposite direction as quickly as you can.

You don’t go back to the pool after that.

Being dead wasn’t so bad. Sure, you had spent a solid five weeks distraught over the loss of the life you had once lived and mourning everything you will never get to do. And yeah, it was a uniquely painful type of loneliness getting to see all your friends and never getting to interact with them, especially during those first few weeks when your disappearance was hot on everyone’s lips and heavy in the hearts of your friends. But outside of all that, being dead was okay. At least, you didn’t have to submit any more papers or do laundry.

After your encounter with Steve Harrington, class of ‘86, you decide to hole up in the library. You desperately convince yourself that if you search the shelves enough you’ll be able to find something in one of the many books that talk about the afterlife that might provide you some clarity about your newfound ghostly status. Surely there’d have to be something helpful. Anything. A ghost manual, perhaps or some graduate research paper about being stuck in between realms. You’d easily settle for a Chicken Soup for the Ghostly Soul.

Or you think traitorously to yourself, a tour guide to the afterlife, someone who has experience with being dead and a great set of abs. Every time you’re close to convincing yourself to go back to the pool, the embarrassment of your mortifying first encounter pulls you back. No way you were going to see him again. Just because you were dead didn’t mean you’d lost all your dignity.

Your internal back-and-forth ends up not mattering because he ends up coming to you.

You spot his well-coifed head maneuvering through the tall shelves from where you’ve holed yourself up on the fourth floor mezzanine and watch as he weaves through the unassuming crowd, completely unnoticed, just like you.

He’s wearing clothes this time, which both disappointing and surprising since you haven’t quite figured out the mechanics or social expectations of how often ghosts should be changing clothes. In a pair of snug-fitted jeans with a Northwestern Athletics sweatshirt and a pair of high top Nikes, he takes the winding steps up to your unofficial perch two at a time . If this is what he looks like some 40 years dead, you can’t imagine what he looked like when he had a pulse, it must have been like staring into the sun.

“Hi,” he offers tentatively when he approaches, like he’s sure you’ll run off spooked.

“Hi.”

“Sorry to bother you, it’s just, well, my friend Robin told me she saw you here and I wanted to come by and apologize for what happened. At the pool. I truly had no idea, sometimes I just say things without thinking, which I am working on, trust me.”

You smile, appreciative but defeated, part of you was hoping he was coming up here to tell you that there had been some sort of mistake.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault, it was just a bit of shock, is all. I guess I’m still adjusting to this whole being dead thing,” you joke weakly.

“Yeah, about that, if you ever need help adjusting or learning the ropes or anything like that, I—we are always happy to help. There’s a few of us that band together and we’d love to have you. Truly,” he claws nervously at the back of his head as he makes his offer the tip of his sneaker digging into the worn library carpet.

“Thanks,” you say, genuinely, “I really appreciate that.”

He looks at you now, finally, and his gaze is golden, warm honey and it’s like a shot to the chest. Like you’ve promised him the moon. A hand is extended towards just slightly, a twitch, and you realize he’s expecting you to take it.

“I can’t right now, though,” you say, lamely and you watch his smile waver. Quickly you add, ”I need some time, I think, before it becomes permanent. If I go with you, I’m dead. Alone up here, I’m still just missing. Does that…make sense?”

He nods, furiously, “It makes total sense. You can come find me by the pool whenever you’re ready. I will be there.”

He makes a move to leave and you register the paper in his hand for the first time. It’s a flyer with your face on it, different than all the ones before.

“Wait, what is that?” You ask, fingers skimming the plush of his sweatshirt to get his attention.

“Oh, um,” he swallows thickly, “they’re having a vigil for you tonight, I wasn’t sure if you’d seen or if you were going, but if you were going, I was going to see if you wanted some company. “

His voice is small now and the regret is etched thickly on his face.

Fingers shaking, you extend a hand out for the flyer. Steve sighs but gently places it in your trembling grasp nonetheless.

It’s true, what he said about the vigil, you had no clue. You’re not sure how long you spend staring at your own face, long enough for the words to stop making sense, but not long enough for them to stop meaning anything.

Steve stays the entire time and when you sink to the floor, tear tracks heavy on your cheeks, he sinks with you. You cry, and he stays.

“I can’t go,” you admit, and then, in the same breath, plea, “How can I go?”

Next to you, Steve lets out a shuttering sigh.

“When I died, they did something similar, my parents came down from Indy and everything. I couldn’t bring myself to go either. But shit, maybe if I did, I would’ve gotten what I needed to move on from here. Closure or whatever. Or maybe not, who knows? But I will never know and I would hate for you to never know.”

It’s still too hard to go you decide, but you can’t pretend it’s not happening. Instead, the two of you sit on the roof of the library, feet dangling over the ledge watch a river of candlelight flowing through the center of campus. You can hear, faintly, as your friends make speeches talking about how kind you were, how good, how funny and undeserving until their voices fail from holding back tears.

You cry the whole time, but you don’t regret it.

The two of you stay sitting there far past the end, Steve’s arms wrapped around you, holding the pieces of you together.

After, when you’ve had enough of it all and the last candle has gone out, you turn to Steve and say, “thank you, that did make me feel better. You were right.”

He chuckles wryly.

“I don’t hear that I’m right very often,” he admits before cracking another smile, “but I could get used to hearing it, especially from you. Now, what do you say about getting some ice cream? No offense, but that thing was a total downer.”

You laugh, genuinely, not only at his joke, but the absurdity of it all before playfully shoving his shoulder. In response, Steve pretends to lose his balance and almost fall of the ledge and you both know it’s silly but it makes you smile so it’s worth it.

Dying is probably the worst thing that has ever happened to you, but at least you are not alone.

[sorrow-already-spoiled]

To All the Ones I’ve Loved Before

Malakai Perish

Malakai, you were the first person I ever loved. My brother, my twin, the other half of my soul, my anchor. Our childhood living arrangements were so absent of affection that I swear only the burning warmth in my heart that came with your unconditional love kept me from freezing to death in that house. On the worst of days, the ones where I faced the iron of Alexsandra’s wrath, you were always there beside me. We would pick up the pieces together, in the cramped space beneath my bed. We would dream of the day we could run away from there together. Away from our absent father, abusive mother and elder siblings. Our pinky promise upheld to the bitter end. 

The day we turned 16 we packed our bags and slipped away in the night. Even with all my expensive tastes, I still sometimes miss that wreck of an apartment we spent the first few years in, with its rat infestation and broken heater that left us clinging together for warmth. How could I be cold, knowing that I would never be alone? That you loved me? You took some awful work (we both did) to make us enough money to have real stability. It wasn’t easy, but I was never scared, because for the first time in our life we had a home to always return to. I may not believe in any gods, but I am forever grateful to whatever force in the universe decided that you and I would be together in this life, and every other one too. 

                                          Love, the light to your shadow, Faye

Quinn Feratra

Quinn, meeting you was a workplace hazard. I was freshly 18, with a full face of makeup and more skin exposed than covered. The casino floor was some god awful patterned carpet that would have been tasteless when it was new in the 80’s. The place reeked of spilled spirits and arrogance. Rich men with wedding rings tucked away in their back pockets let wandering eyes crawl across me. It felt like punishment, and I could admit in quiet midnights that part of me was desperate just to feel something. It was laughably easy to link my arm though one of theirs, to smile with fluttered eyelashes and cheer at their victories. 

“Come home with me,” they would whisper.

“Handsome, my time isn’t cheap,” a flirtatious wink, “am I worth it?”

They always said I was. At the time I was sure it wasn’t true. 

Excusing myself to “freshen up for you, baby,” I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, manicured nails pressing sharply against the dull marble. Rent was due soon. If I had played that man well enough, maybe I could have gotten ahead of the payments, let Malakai rest for even a few days. It would have broken his heart if he knew what ‘working night shift at a casino’ really meant. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the frustrated tears from welling up in my eyes. 

“Bad night?” You were standing at the sink next to mine, washing your hands. I felt my heart skip a beat. I had thought I was alone. 

“It’s fine.” I snapped at you. 

  “...bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?” You rested your hip against the counter, turning to look at me with quietly observant eyes. 

“I said bullshit. It’s clearly not fine.”

“And what gives you, a complete stranger, the right?” Indignation burned in my chest, furious at my own transparency. You offered me your hand.

“Quinn Feratra. And I don’t think you should go home with that creep you were all over out there.” Somehow I found myself going home with you instead, the guilt of unpaid bills hanging over my heart. 

Back then, time with you was always stolen. Every moment I spent with you was a moment I was afraid Mal and I would be evicted, or that we wouldn’t have enough money for the month. I was tearing myself in half trying to balance the happiness I felt spending time with you and the things I did to ensure stability for Mal and I. Money was always an issue, and I constantly had to lie or hide things from both you and my brother. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and horribly insecure. The more exhausted I got, the less energy I could afford to spend convincing myself I was important, not when I would rather spend that energy on you. I recognize in retrospect how flawed that mindset was. When you finally managed to pin me down for a conversation, I turned it into an argument, which then turned into bitter frustrations. I was the one to run. 

“You knew what I was when we met, so don’t blame me.”

“Faye, I’m not–”

“Don’t bother. I’m done with this.” The door to your apartment slammed with finality, and I felt hollow. Only when that door was closed did I recognize I was in love with you, but it was too late. I couldn’t go back, and I felt I couldn’t be enough for someone as wholly good as you. I cried myself to sleep in Malakai’s arms, refusing to answer his unspoken questions. I did not allow myself to cry again. 

With love and a heavy heart, Faye

Jemon Morale

Jem, you were warm enough to melt the frost I’d built up. A few years later Mal and I had saved enough for a decent apartment, and I was even able to go back to school, working towards an accounting certification. I was meticulous with money, and Mal had suggested I turn it into a career. It wasn’t exciting, but it was stable, and I enjoyed the routine. I crunched pennies to feel less guilty about rewarding myself with cheap coffees at a little coffee shop near our home. Headphones in, I would crunch out a week's worth of homework in the hours between class and closing time. 

A small plate set down onto the table softly, drawing my attention upwards to your lovely green eyes. 

“Sorry to disturb you, you just work so hard every time I see you in here, I thought you deserved something for it?” A perfect croissant drizzled in decadent chocolate and powdered sugar rested on the pale blue plate. 

“Oh, I couldn’t take this, I haven’t paid for it.” You smiled.

“Consider it a favor then, you’re taste testing for me.” Your name tag read ‘Jim’. “I’m apprenticing as a baker here, and I have permission to experiment with recipes. It would be great to know what customers think of my creations.” Your crooked grin and earnest eyes convinced me to take the croissant, and the myriad of treats you brought to me each week after that. 

You would sit with me on your break, endlessly warm, with no expectations whatsoever. When you asked if I would consider going for dinner with you, I said yes without hesitation. When you asked if you could kiss me, I said yes without hesitation. When you were offered an apprenticeship with a patisserie in France, I told you to say yes without hesitation. I loved you, and wanted nothing more than for you to follow your dreams, and it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I loved you enough to let you go. I drove you to the airport, and didn’t hide my tears when you made me promise not to wait for you. A part of my heart went with you to France, but I felt more whole than before I met you. You eventually moved home with a man you met abroad who looks like an honest to god pirate, and I’m still blessed to have you in my life, as a dear, dear friend. I don’t regret losing you Jem, because loving you was the first chance I had at a healthy romance. You convinced me that there was still goodness in the world, that love was more than pain and promises. You convinced me I was worth loving, and I’ll be forever grateful. 

Love from your biggest fan, Faye

Lövi Lævateinn

Lovi, meeting you was like being swept up in a windstorm. Until I learned to move the way you move, smile the way you smile, I would just be swept off my feet and helpless. We clicked instantly. Something about 8:00AM classes will do that to people. It took me a while to figure out what you were doing in an 8:00AM biology class (fuck having to take a lab science in any degree, honestly), when as far as I could tell your degree was in philosophy. Then I realized any time not spent gossiping with me about what professors we thought were hot, was spent staring at the back of Laufi Illphelkiir’s head. 

I helped you practice your ‘dramatic love confession’, holding a hairbrush like a microphone and a pile of laundry in your dorm room as a ‘token of your most sincere affections’. I hate that the background music you chose to set the scene to was Careless Whisper. I swore I was going to burst a lung, I laughed so hard that night. You have made me laugh more than anyone else in my life. 

After Laufi told you about his condition, how his illness prevented him from feeling any affection towards you as he simply didn’t have the energy for a relationship, you came to me for comfort. I would have never turned you away. When that comfort turned physical, I was still happy to be there with you through it. After all, what are friends for? I hope you never worried it was transactional, like those men at the casino that I quietly told you about one night while stargazing. I don’t love you the way I’d loved Quinn or Jem. It wasn’t romantic. It isn't how I love Mal either. It’s the kind of love that is so pure and platonic and unconditional that I can’t possibly explain. I know I don’t have to though. You understand. 

Love, your dumbass, Faye

Kumo Hipeitseilg

Kumo, you were a joy. I’d never dated someone younger than me, and to say that I was taken by surprise when a complete stranger asked me out to dinner would be an understatement. You approached me in the hall of the university math wing, and asked without shame, pressing a sketch into my hands. It was me, drawn with burning angel wings, powerful and beautiful. How could I have said no? 

Dinner was a strange affair, and I could feel how out of practice I was at this. It had been years since my last real date, but it wasn’t awkward. We people watched, and tried to imagine what the people at other tables were doing. You do a shockingly good impression of someone with a lisp. It makes you sound so much younger and unassuming, it’s crazy. 

Dating you was fun. Each time we met we did something interesting, and playful. Spending time with you made me feel young again, like I could play at being the child I never got to be. Falling in love with you was fun.

You always shied away from intimacy. I worried I might be being too pushy, but the longer time went on, the more strange it felt. I was content to wait, but then you started to feel different, like the energy you were pushing out into the universe had changed. When you finally sat me down and explained that you thought that maybe you weren’t attracted to women in a physical way at all, it made sense. Our relationship wasn’t a romantic one for you, it was a friendship. I thought I would be mad, but you looked so terrified in that moment that all I felt was affection and a desire to protect you. 

So we ended our relationship, and began a friendship instead. It took some time for my feelings to change, but I wasn’t willing to lose you entirely. We make a pretty good duo either way, Kumo. I hope you find someone who is everything you’re looking for.  As for me, the drawing you gave me the day we met is still displayed on my wall.

Love, your friend, Faye

Lewellyn V’lain

Lewellyn, I never told you how I felt. Even as I write this letter, I know you’ll never read it, and that's good. You lived in the apartment across from Mal and I. Honestly, we’d been living there for 6 months without running into you. You were quiet as a mouse, and kept odd work hours as an assistant in your mother’s lab. Honestly, it was surprising that we hadn’t met earlier, considering you were an old friend of Lovi’s. I had heard lots about you, but it was a coincidence that we met. 

I had forgotten my key, and Mal had his phone turned off at work, and you happened to be coming home just then. You let me stay in your apartment until he got home. Somehow, your place felt stagnant. It was decorated nicely, and it was tidy, but something about it felt stuck. I couldn’t put my finger on it. What I could see however, was the bone deep exhaustion you carried with you, and the debilitating insecurity that I was so familiar with in myself. I’d had love and support around me for the better part of a decade before we met, and the way you rejected kindness made me sure that you’d never had any at all. You never talked about your family. Never talked about your attempts. You were all sharp edges and biting words, and yet, you had a way of getting under people’s skin. People liked you, even if they hated it. I fell for you hard, and I wanted so badly to help you, but I knew you would only bite the hand I offered you. 

You might not have been willing to try for yourself, but damn if you don’t look after my brother. Somehow you saw right through his facade to the real him. I watched him fall in love with you, and I’m watching as you try to be worthy of him. It’s like looking in a mirror at myself 10 years ago. 

I’m making a vow to let you love my brother instead, to never breathe a word of my own feelings, and to be your friend instead. 

I’m getting tired of having friends instead. I so desperately want that intimacy that everyone else seems to have, but I want it to be real. To feel real. 

With unrequited love, Faye

Faye Feratra

My wife, my love, my past, my future. I’ve never been very good with words, or the written word, but I found your collection of letters in a box under your side of the bed, and I wanted to answer you in kind somehow. 

Watching you walk away that day was one of the worst of my life. I started gambling again. I was a mess by the time Varm stepped in and made me clean myself up. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong. I had no idea what your circumstances were back then, and I’m still furious at myself that I didn’t ask. I could have found a way to make your life a little easier. But I just let you walk away, and I didn’t follow. 

I dated a few people after you, but nothing stuck. When I ran into you six years after you walked out, you could have knocked me over with a feather. You looked so different. You walked with purpose, with your head held high. Your eyes had a lightness to them that they never had before, even when you were happy. You caught sight of me, and froze. I thought you would run again. But instead you steadied yourself and sat down at my table. 

“I hope it isn’t too late to give you an explanation.” I remember numbly shaking my head, and listening to you tell the long obscured truth of back then. The prostitution, the rent payments of a shit apartment, the abusive family, and the crippling need for stability. You didn’t ask me to forgive you, but I did anyway. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” you said, “It hurt me too, but I wouldn’t change meeting you anyways. I hope things have been going well for you.” You got halfway down the street before I managed to catch up with you. 

We dated for a year before I finally convinced you to move in with me. Two years after that I proposed, and you were furious that I had beat you to it. Our poor wedding planner nearly quit from the stress you put her through, but it turned out perfect. We saved enough to buy a house on the outskirts of the city, one with enough room to expand. Room we needed, as we began to adopt. Nine kids was enough to keep us busy. They’ve all grown up into their own people so quickly. I can see you in them, you know. In the way they talk, the way they smile, the way they love. 47 years of marriage is an accomplishment you know, even if I would have liked it to be longer. When you left us, it was surrounded by our family, and with my hand in yours. 

All the people you loved before were all still in your life, they were all here today for your funeral. I had no idea how deeply you loved each of them. I’m so proud to know that the woman I love was capable of giving so much of her heart away again and again, and that somehow I was the one who got to keep you. I don’t know how I’m going to stand waking up tomorrow to find your side of the bed cold and empty, but I will. I’m going to stay until the end of my time, spoil our kids, love our family. I’m going to survive losing you, because I’m so absolutely certain I’m going to see you again on the other side. I love you so much Faye. 

  Your first and last love, Quinn Feratra

[wellpresseddaisy]

Long Ago (and far away) pt. 23

And now for something a little different. I thought we could use a bit of a palate cleanser before we have to deal with more emotions.

Monday evening, Diagon Alley

A shadowed figure darted across cobbled streets, bootheels ringing against the stone. A fine mist curled and wafted about the figure, flaring with cloak and skirt at each sharp turn.

It turned down a dimly lit alley and scurried through the pooling gloom. Finally, it pushed open the door of the Queensmark Teahouse and slipped inside.

"Eggers? Are you done for the night? It's an absolutely foul one." Eglantine Carruthers pushed back the hood of her cloak and removed her gloves.

"Nory? Is it just you, dearest?" Came a voice from the back.

"Just me, darling. I don't think anyone else has even stirred yet." She took off her cloak and laid it in a booth. "It is perishing out there."

"I have tea and a light supper ready. You're always ravenous after the theater." Eglantine Dunwoodie exited the kitchen, but it wasn't an Eglantine any but her friends recognized.

Gone was the soft pompadour and sensible dress of her everyday persona. In their place, she wore her hair in a short, cropped cut and the trousers and waistcoat of a three-piece suit. She wore a soft, collarless shirt under the waistcoat with her sleeves rolled up.

"Oh, Eggsy." Eglantine sighed. "One day…"

"Mother's been such a brick about me not wanting to be married and settle down with giving her grandbabies, after she calmed down at least." Dunwoodie managed a soft smile, though it twisted a bit. "I can't…not yet. She loves the girly things on me so."

"Well, you'll just have to bring home a pretty girl who likes to be fussed over and who wants to have children. Not to mention that you being handsomer than all your brothers would put their noses out of joint." Eglantine waved a hand and spoke airily. "How is that sweet little librarian you’ve been stepping out with, by the by?”

“Eglantine Honoria, what have you done?” That perfectly casual tone immediately raised suspicion in everyone who knew her.

“Nothing at all, darling. Just supporting a venerable institution. She’s ever so helpful. I suppose she can’t help being named Marion.”

“It’s a perfectly lovely name.” Dunwoodie raised an eyebrow.

“Maaaarion…madam libraaaaaarian.” Eglantine sang. “It’s from a non-magical musical, quite popular at the moment though the male lead doesn’t really have the range he ideally needs. Too used to G&S, I suppose.”

“Not everyone has an encyclopedic knowledge of musical theater, dearest.” Dunwoodie smiled.

“Well they should of they’re going to be producing librarians. She really is sweet. She found ever so many books for me and it was happenstance that she helped me at all. I just went to do a bit of research for a book and I didn’t realize she was your librarian until we were halfway through the history section.”

“She isn’t mine, dearest.”

“Not yet she isn’t. And when she is then we’re going to have a party for you.” Eglantine did not mention a certain tea and gossip date set for the next week.

"You just want an excuse to throw a party, you horror." Dunwoodie laughed. "How are you doing, though, without the house elves?"

"Oh, we're doing brilliantly. I felt so guilty that they were with us because Hal's the eldest when his sister has nine children and no help. Well, some help, but not nearly enough, not for nine. Really they were just dying for house elf assistance. Nanny — the head elf — was so very kind and helped us find Nanny Jameson and Nurse. And both of them get on famously with Nanny, so Nanny can pop by whenever she likes and make certain everything is up to her standards. And oh, I've been such a goose, darling. You really wouldn't believe." Eglantine waved her soup spoon as she spoke.

"Eat your soup, Nory, and then tell me. We haven't had a good long talk in so long." Dunwoodie set a soup plate before her. "I want to hear all about your doings."

"Thank you. I really am famished. One eats before the theater, of course, but opening night is such a marathon. And then people want to speak to one after and suddenly it's closing in on so very late and one is just dead." Eglantine stopped speaking long enough to refresh herself. "Now that I'm no longer in danger of just wasting away…oh, I've missed this too. I must make more time for my friends. Hal…you know, he's really such a darling man."

"That's the only reason he gets invited to our dos, you know." Dunwoodie smiled gently. "It's because he makes you wonderfully happy. Putting your mother's nose out of joint may have helped."

"And she can't even complain because his family is so unimpeachably correct." Eglantine giggled, her eyes alight with mirth. "In any case…do you know, we should have a party to celebrate how brave we all are, really. But, me being a goose. Mother—don't make that face darling, you'll be wrinkled up in no time and Mother isn't worth it—got it into my head that I should take more interest in the boys' primary education. That I was somehow a Bad Mother because I was leaving it to the professionals."

"That," Dunwoodie pointed with her toast. "Is precisely what a bad mother would say."

"In any case, Hal was away and I got myself so worked up over it that I tried and tried to take an interest. By the time he got home I was pacing in the foyer, convinced that I was the Worst Mother Ever because I was about to go mad if I had to listen to a child limping through the alphabet one more time. Do you know, he's never laughed at me? Not once? Not even this last time when he dropped his valise in the foyer and found me doing a fine impression of Lady MacB, all wringing hands and agonized eyebrows?"

"Of course he hasn't. He's a good man."

"Between him and Nanny they got me calmed down enough to see sense and it is funny now. The pacing in the foyer part, not Mother. Hal said life would be terribly flat if he came home to a quiet house and no dramatic scenes in the foyer. It really is a lovely place for a good scene." Eglantine smiled down at the table. "He also said that while spending more time with the boys is good, I can't neglect my friends or my work. That having outside interests makes one a better parent."

"Precisely. It isn't as if you shunt them off to Nanny and only see them an hour at teatime or leave all the hard bits to Nanny and Nurse. But you have to be able to work, as well."

"Nanny was very firm that we hired her on because she's a professional and can start the boys on their educational path. And that working parents need help, and also could we please keep my mother out of the nursery? We may have to ban her from the house altogether and won't that be a merry to-do?" Eglantine sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to keep ranting about Mother."

"She's just so rantable, dearest. One day, when she and your Aunt Eulalia are no longer with us, you're going to write a best-seller about your family."

Eglantine snorted. "Dad would buy innumerable copies and hand them out to everyone. He loves her, but…"

"Yes. But. Now, I asked you to come before everyone else for a reason, and I think we could both use a bit of a palate-cleanser after your mother." Dunwoodie refilled their teacups.

"Oooh, you have the best gossip, darling. You hear simply everything here." Eglantine settled into her chair.

"Guess who was in here Saturday afternoon?" Dunwoodie started.

"Oh, who? Don't make me guess, darling. I've used all my brain and borrowed some from Hal today. I'm working on some very dodgy credit."

"Alright, you goose. It was Professor Snape, and he wasn't alone."

Her tone had Eglantine gasping. "Oh, really?"

"He's bonded. Well, he was, just that morning at Gringotts."

"Ooooooh. Who?"

"The new head of the Slytherin family. He had the signet and the bonding bands. Didn't get his name, though. I expect it'll be in the papers in the next few days."

"No!" Eglantine fairly squeaked in delight. "Oh, this is too utterly wonderful. What was he like?"

"He seemed…normal? Protective. I think he might get called domineering and overbearing with some regularity, to be perfectly honest. Professor Snape was in a right state when they came in, like he was that one Potions lesson. Do you know…sometimes…it was like they were meant to be together, dearest. Like you and Hal. They were just right together. And he has a face like one of those collar advertisements. Handsome as anything, and there I was looking like a hazel angora rabbit."

Eglantine's mouth twitched. "You don't remind one that much of a fluffy bunny in your girly things. And certainly not now, darling."

"I, er, overreacted a titch when they came in." Dunwoodie bit her lip. "Held him at wand point until he showed the bands and his signet."

Eglantine snorted. "Well of course you did. It was Professor Snape. But darling, this is too blessedly funny. It would make a wonderful book. The schoolmaster plucked from his everyday life and hurtled into Society. Mmm…domineering husband…oooh, perfect aristocrat…he doesn't need to be taken to the shops…not with Mrs. Malfoy's influence, but…I wonder if Professor Snape will have a Moment of Triumph?"

"You are not using this in your work." Dunwoodie managed to sound stern for a moment. "And Professor Snape's moment of triumph would be making Dowager Prewett laugh inappropriately at a presentation."

"He would, wouldn't he?" Eglantine had that far away look her friends recognized as 'author at work'.

"He got such a ticking off from her at one of the last presentations because he spent the night trying to make either Professor McGonagall or Mrs. Malfoy lose their composure." Dunwoodie confided, mostly to get Eglantine's brain off the writerly track.

"Someone…well, no, she might actually be more frightening than Professor Snape."

"I was standing by the tea table thinking cook-like thoughts, so they didn't even notice me. She told him that he could stop being a towering brat and that he was going to sit by her until the Malfoys took him home because she couldn't trust him to behave otherwise. To his credit, he really did his best to amuse her after that."

"She called Professor Snape a…no. I won't believe it. She couldn't! She didn't! Not Professor Snape!"

"She did. She is ancient. I suppose we all must seem like children. I rather saw her point, though. We never saw it at school because he'd rather remove his own liver than be a bad influence on us, but I think his natural inclination is to tease a bit, push the boundaries. He's really not that much older than we are. What…seven years? Same as Eccles, really."

"Well, it is pleasant sometimes when your partner takes a firm line on pushing boundaries." Eglantine waggled her eyebrows. "Hal's dreadfully good at firm."

"Eg-lan-tine! What have you been getting up to?" Dunwoodie couldn't help the scandalized question. Usually, she tried to ignore Eglantine's more outrageous moments.

Eglantine just grinned wickedly. "You know, I learned so much about myself on the trip backafter we married. So…educational."

"You really are a horror, you know." Dunwoodie chuckled.

"Yes, I've rather a lot of practice." She snickered. "But…once he'd come back, Professor Snape, that is…he was taken care of?"

"Oh, yes. I think it might be good for him. He needs to be looked after, I think. He's got dreadfully thin."

"Has he? I used to think he toyed with his food more than ate it, you know? Nerves. But with all the layers it's so hard to see. And even I wasn't impertinent enough to ask. He made such a difference for us, though, those last few years. I don't think anyone's ever done the same for him. And…you're certain sure this one is a good one?"

"Yes." Dunwoodie answered firmly. "He reminded me of Hal. And Professor Snape reminded me of you after you'd found Hal. You used to go around, well, cranked right up, and no wonder with your mother. I think Professor Snape is more like you than not, dearest, only he internalizes everything. Funny how we never noticed."

"That would explain why he always knew exactly what I was up to." Eglantine sighed. "Couldn't get anything over on that man. And children are self-centered as gyroscopes, by and large, even mine."

"You still can't get anything past him." Dunwoodie grinned at her. "I asked everyone to come out tonight because I didn't want them surprised, as much as possible. I just wanted a good confab with you, first."

"We're definitely having more parties. I mean it, darling. We don't see near enough of each other. And we are going to make a standing date, whenever is most convenient to you. I won't fall out of touch with all my friends, and especially not you. Eglantines have got to stick together."

"Speaking of sticking, dearest, how's young Teddie?"

"Edwina is…coping. The collective family name took rather a hard knock with Mother's reaction to…well, me taking a powder. And then when I came back married…and started writing plays and things…what a frightful time. Poor girl is finding it a bit hard in Slytherin. Aunt Eulalia siding with mother didn't help. They've both lost their vouchers. Dowager Prewett apparently thought them giving me The Cut was beyond acceptable. Mother's tried to make nice again, though, in her own way. I just feel so for poor Teddie. She doesn't deserve to be a scapegoat."

"I can have a word with my cousins in Ravenclaw. She's a bright girl; they should be able to do something for her. It's certainly been long enough."

"You'd think people would forget, but not Slytherin. Not when it comes to committing Social Crimes. I've been trying to take her about with me as much as possible, since Uncle Wallace put his foot down. He and Dad have been the saving graces, really."

"Well, we'll do what we can. Some of my cousins are friends with some of the current crop of Morningsides. I'll see if they'll have a word. She won't be lonely forever."

"Thank you. If I knew five years ago…"

"We would still have put you on that steamer, dearest, if we had to drug you. You needed to get away. And you met Hal, who really is the nicest man I know."

"He is, isn't he." Eglantine went a bit pink.

"And how are Eurydice and Ecclesiastes?" The glint in her eye had Eglantine sniggering.

"Dicey's just fine. She's at Oxford and she's beating the pants off everyone in terms of scholarship. Poor old Eccles, though, she really can't help it. And we shouldn't call her that, but honestly, if you're going to proselytize…and your own family at that!"

"She sent me a Bible. With all the bits she found important highlighted."

"She didn't! Oh, you know I don't mind anyone being a Christian or anything, plenty of them are the loveliest people, but it seems like she's doing it just to be a trial. She does have to live with Mother, though, which I imagine is a complete misery, and Mother keeps saying how it's so unfortunate Poor Ethel is On The Shelf. What can you expect with a personality like a wet Monday?"

"Is she still, er, doing Good Works for the Unfortunate?" A rather unsteady voice betrayed Dunwoodie.

"I shall never live that down. Mrs. Weasley, thankfully, has a sense of humor. She collared me at the Simcox's tea, you know, and was just so delightful. She completely understood that you can't choose your blood relations. Eccles is moving into absolutely potty territory, I'm afraid. She wanted to wear the most ghastly frock to my parents' anniversary party. This…shapeless sack in the most putrid shade of mauve. It wasn't even nice shapeless, like one of those artistic dresses or the nineteen-twenties. She had a whole speech about modesty and not causing your brothers in Christ to stumble all while staring at my red velvet which was a bit décolleté. But in a tasteful way because it was a formal affair. Dad told her any stumbling wasn't her problem and she was to go change her dress immediately. She still wore something appalling but it wasn't actively embarrassing, at least."

Dunwoodie could barely speak for mirth by the end of it. "I really oughtn't laugh." She gasped.

"Someone should get some enjoyment out of this. Merlin knows Eccles isn't!" And Eglantine dissolved into giggles herself.

"Does she enjoy anything?" Dunwoodie managed after a few moments.

"Honestly, I think she adores her own misery. She's addicted to piousness." Eglantine sighed deeply. "Thank you, darling. You've been an absolute pillar, you know." She managed to pull herself together enough to clasp Dunwoodie's hand. "I think I hear—"

The bell tinkled over the door and Dunwoodie squeezed Eglantine's hand.

"Thank you, dearest. I couldn't ask for a better friend." She spoke quietly before moving to greet the rest of her guests. The 1983 and 1984 seventh year Slytherins (or at least cohorts of each) had rather banded together in the last several years.

"Neither could I." Eglantine said on a sigh and stood to help. Sometimes she really missed those last years at Hogwarts.

-------------

"Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why I asked you to come out on a night I've been assured is perfectly foul." Dunwoodie did such an excellent imitation of Eglantine's italics that everyone snickered.

"It is, and you know it." Eglantine laughed.

"I have news that I'm certain you'll want to hear."

"Doc is joining the landlubbers again?" Maurice called out from where he lounged by the fire.

"Not on your life." Doc laughed at him. "I'll be buried at sea, my good fellow."

"Suhani's back?" Niniane asked hopefully.

"This next summer, I think." Maurice said. "She's nearly done with her course."

"Balls!" Niniane muttered. "Is there going to be another baby, then?"

"In the next twenty-four hours, if all goes well." A tall man answered as he slipped into the shop. "Annabeth is in labor. She was cursing the baby's timing when I left."

"Derry, you left?" Gwendolyn gave him A Look. As she was a librarian, it was an effective Look.

"She told me to go! In any case, Howard is with her and she told me she certainly didn't need an audience. I waited until her healer got there and then she shoved me out." Howard defended himself. "I promised to bring the news back, though."

"Be serious!" Dunwoodie scolded. "Although I'm sure Nory is already planning the welcome baby party. Professor Snape is bonded. He was in here right after. I didn't want anyone to be surprised and, well, we need to come up with a present."

The sensation was magnificent.

[semperanneboleyn]

  The world can understand well enough the process of perishing for unrequited love; perhaps few persons can enter into that going mad from a heart's solitary confinement. One may see the long-buried prisoner disinterred - the lovesick a maniac, an idiot; how Anne's senses once left her, how her desires, first inflamed, underwent namely agony. It is a subject too intricate for a simpleton's examination, too abstract for mass comprehension. When the world was younger than it is now, and moral trials were a deep mystery still; then perhaps, in a land far from theirs, there would have laid one, to soothe and comprehend all she felt, for Thomas Wyatt. His lashes were as dark as they were long, and they softened Ann with the penciling orbs they one guarded. Thomas knew Anne in her naked truth; he knew all her faults, and gladly took her home.Few were afforded love in their lifetime; fewer yet, could attest to having endured the sin of being loved then unloved - to being awarded the favour, of the one who had slipped away. Anne's love for Thomas Wyatt had been a war; the god damn fight of her life, and he started it. 

In the very beginning, before she had penetrated his motives, that un-comprehended sneer of Thomas' had made her heart and ache; by and by it would soon be suited to only warm the blood in her veins - his every action, sent added throbbing to her most domestic of body parts. . Whatever powers she possessed, divinely feminine or otherwise, would be deployed in her ambitious wish; his heart. Such endeavours had cost Anne previously; combat with Henry, was sharp for a time. She had been appalled to have lost his affection; he treated her so strangely. In his most unjust moments, Henry would insinuate she had deceived him; as if it was she, and not he, who feigned a false incapacity. And so Anne prayed her Thomas would never turn round suddenly, and accuse her of the most far-fetched and impossible transgressions; his affection was so sweet and dear, utterly incomparable. Half-quivering, half-mewling, Anne's knees sunk into the satin bedsheets; how handsome Thomas looked - purpose and his manhood, were roused fully. 

His hot kisses upon her neck were to at once, attract and enchain, to subdue and excite Anne; warm, retiring joy, was expressed in her animated visage. Her fingers, graceful in their aspects, exchanged passions across the broad, smooth, half-linen clad expanse of Thomas' back; he did not conquer her, merely to gain his mainly honour - power slept softly in his eyes. He retained the same youth and beauty of years past; when all endeavours to satisfy herself to his image, did not suffice. "I am as fond of your mind as I am your hands; your tongue, being a well used vehicle for each of your many talents. Do you doubt, I shall soon move you to make zealous proclamations - perhaps those regarding the triumphant nature, of the much fabled Boleyn womanhood?" His hair, so dark with a sunny sheen; romantic eyes that flashed love, his lips menacing beautifully, phrases of hot passion. She kissed him again, to observe the colouring of his cheek - and for every kiss, he would see how important she was. "You shall serve your punishment, Sir Wyatt, as her majesty's pleasure." Besotted and accustomed to his ways, Anne instructed her ladies to loosen her ties should her husband be in bed; better to later, have little to fumble with in a frenzied state. Not a blushing bride, nor a ghastly, matronly nun; Anne, flushed, bared before her husband, was something else entirely. 

Before, many moons ago, perhaps Thomas would’ve gladly considered himself a version of Adonis prancing through the fields of Elysium whenever Aphrodite thought to leave him by the wayside — quite like his relationship with his the great grandeur of Anne Boleyn, he would wait till called or visited upon, then launch himself to his lover in ways kept to the wilderness of a heathen imagination. Perhaps that was how he had survived the incoming years, but then, hadn’t he loved at least his lover who had blessed him with three children, if only to know them for varying lengths of time? Darrell had been understanding, or so, that he had thought — but were those moments merely spent to wait upon the arrival of his dear Anne? Was love as fickle as such a thought? He may have to find a moment to muse upon it when Anne was in some meeting or in the bathing rooms, leaving Thomas to act the scribe to his various wanderings that surrounded the long-standing and passionate love affair that had only since been consummated in more recent, tender years.

With his arm outstretched, he went to coax his wife forward with one crook of his finger, with her skirts upon his lap in a few easy movements that allowed him to embrace her with the same passion he would’ve taken as a younger man still free from the rumour of reputation or rumblings of treachery. If he had taken her back then, however, when visiting Hever with his father or going to her own patriarch with a letter in hand, there wouldn’t have been any chance of their survival. How long would it have taken for him to propose a pre-contract of matrimony to a woman like her? It would’ve taken minutes within one hour to have it all arranged before he made furious love to her with the Spanish mare on the throne instead. But she would have always seen her place upon the throne, with her whispers and ambition woven through the very fabric that made up the English court — and then, what? In this life they had been saved from the executioner’s block by the stubbornness of Boleyn horns, but if they had known one another carnally before, then they would’ve had no chance.

Alone with his wife, Thomas took her into his arms, his touch cascading down her back to loosen the ties that bound her skin in rich velvet and imported silks, his hands yet roaming as if he were still sailing towards some distant land yet unknown — his eyes greedy with desire as he kissed over her swan neck with the same vigour used before (well, perhaps if he had known the pleasure in knowing Anne so intimately he would’ve risked his head for her cunt, but that was for another time). “Of our love? Ah, do not tell me, you want for my words rather than my touch,” he teased, caring not for the servants who rushed from the room with unfinished linens or armfuls of firewood to be placed upon the hearth. “For I must disobey your wish, my most precious lover — undo your bonnet and skirts for me, and I would have you see stars,” Thomas wooed, his tongue slipping between his lips, his eyes darker than the night sky as the rest of the world remained around them in slow, sodden movements.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey love! if you're still accepting requests, could I get an extremely wild, rough and feral nsfw Daemon x wife fem!reader please? (feel free to ignore and sorry if the request is weird, but I'm thirsty for this handsome fictional man who unfortunately doesn't exist)

Frost Bite

Daemon Targayen x Stark!Reader

Summary: You were travelling back to home soil in anticipation of your wolf's heat cycle. Besides the fact that you could not stand the sound of your prince husband's breathing and the fact you were certain he would perish in the cold, there was one more reason why you did not want him to join you: the fact the heat was affecting you too.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Basically PWP, 5k+ SMUT T_T (non-con [daemon touches her while she's asleep], virgin!reader, she cries for various reasons, fingering, choking, biting, degradation kink, corruption kink, spitting, marking, edging, oral [fem receiving], breeding kink, cream pie), RIP feminism, opens with a wet dream, brief mentions of near death experience in a snow storm, dark!daemon (but imo its just canon daemon) fem!reader, wife!Reader, soft!daemon, typos, etc.

A/N: YEAH MINORS DNI. LOL SO I was planning to write this for my part 2 of my Stark!Reader, but i got lazy and didn't want to create a whole plot leading up to the smut, so i removed it all together, which I guess worked out swell for you nonnie, since I was planning something absolutely unhinged. I hope you liked that fic of mine since you're basically getting a p3 of it So here's part 1, here's part 2, but you don't need to read any of them to understand, but i suggest you do for background cos lol this is PWP T_T Next part ig but its a blurb "✨Magic✨" OMG NEXT PART BUT ITS NOT A BLURB "Moon Cycle" Also nonnie, i wanted to tell you albeit asking for smut is pretty awkward HAHAHAH you gotta process these feelings somehow you know. i mean, we could have been criminals, like Daemon, instead but we're not, and that's what matters (unless you are a criminal in which case im closing my eyes) this gif of him is so large on pc but idc he's so hot MATT I WANT YOU SO BAD FUCK OFF if someone snitches to big brother again like in In Your Defense /: Idk if you want to be, but I'm tagging everyone I tagged in the previous fic, as well as the others that commented there SO HI THIS IS SMUT YOU CAN GO IF YOU WANT LOL HAHHAH @aralezinspace @em-the-lurker @blue1006 @mukduk-not-murder @min-jianhyung @deniixlovezelda @moonmaiden1996 @thatmysteriousblog

I caught him. I caught him doing the very thing I dreaded to catch him do. The one thing I accused him of doing every night, though in my heart of hearts I wished he did not... not that I would ever admit it to his face. Because why would I? Admitting it would mean- "You want me," Daemon heaved against the neck of the woman beneath him. He cranes his neck up as he thrust into her, smirking, eyes dark, "you want this to be you," he pants as he stares at me, "don't you?" I am in my place, frozen, watching and hearing the woman come undone underneath my husband who kisses her tenderly. "Daemon," I whimper helplessly, teary eyed, "Daemon please." "Fuck off."

I jolt awake, sweat sheening my neck and chest. I turn to my bed, empty, because though Daemon insisted we sleep together and I could not fight him in his decision, he did not return to me until nigh dawn.

I wipe my face as I recall my intensifying dreams.

It seems my travels up North would come quicker than anticipated.

And as much as I wanted to tell him I told you so, oh to all the gods, how badly he deserved it, there was no time for me to gloat when Daemon did the very thing I warned him not to, fall into the icy river.

It was instantaneous. The cracking of the ice, the splashing of water, the scream that escaped me. Maybe I should have left him in the cave we kept Caraxes, who he insisted on bringing. But then again he would have insisted on joining me to the cabin, the way he insisted on joining me here up North in the first place.

And now I had to deal with the consequences of his actions.

It was sheer miracle that I got him out of the river without falling into it myself, sheer stupidity of me to rid him of his coat and offer him mine when the blistering snow storm was not relenting, and quite clearly the sheer will of the gods that both of us made it to the cabin... barely.

The moment we walked in, I shut the door and scrambled towards the fireplace. As my fingers shivered, I thought of Havoc, and how at least I know she would find mine and Daemon's corpses if ever we do not make it. I had sent her away when the storm came out of nowhere because we had to find cover for Caraxes, and she would not have been any of help to us if she were here with us anyway.

My poor pup. She would be heartbroken if she saw me frozen. And Caraxes...

I curse the flint, I curse the cold, I curse the gods, and I curse Daemon for every time I failed to light a fire. I thanked the Stranger for finally allowing me the mercy of my eventual success.

Once the fire was burning steady, I get on my feet and run to Daemon, hauling him over to the fire roughly in haste where he helpelessly kneels in front of. He could do nothing but shiver as I scramble to get some dry clothes and sheets for the both of us.

I yank him closer to the fire and begin to undress him.

Seeing as he is nothing but docile to my actions and how his skin was turning grey, I began to grow frantic, "you cannot fucking die, you prick!"

I rip his top off and quickly clothe him, "I did not go through all the trouble of marrying you for nothing. I refuse to be forced into another marriage because your stupid ass froze to death."

Daemon's shudder comes out in a thick condensation.

"Fuck," I whimper, as I struggle to get him out of his boots and breeches.

I shrivel up at the feel of his frozen fingers then brush against my arm and I shake my head rapidly, realizing there was no choice. The only way I can warm him quickly enough is if I share my own.

I strip him naked, pulling off the shirt I struggled to put on him as well, then wrap him in a fur blanket in the meantime. I then take off my own clothes and hiss at the nipping cold.

The fact Daemon does not even look at my naked form strikes a chord in me.

I straighten him up and fix the blankets on his legs and thighs before I sit on his lap. I press my bare chest against his and whimper at his dangerously concerning coldness.

He shivers against me as his face rests helplessly on my shoulder. His breath that hits my skin is not even hot.

"Remember, you're too fucking stubborn to die," I say as I wrap my legs around his torso and graciously place his fingers beneath my bottom.

His lack of warmth literally brings tears to my eyes.

I reach out for the other blanket and wrap it over myself, consequently Daemon, before I wrap my arms around him and breathe hotly against his face.

I rub his back, "will you allow irony to take you? The hot blooded prince defeated by the cold?"

He releases a shiver and moves his head. He mutters something, but his quaking body does not allow me to make sense of it.

"Do not waste your energy," I chide.

And so for a long moment, we stay like this, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing each other's heat. I do my best to warm him. I even nuzzle against him, the way Havoc did me, just so I could warm his stupid face.

Daemon finally finds it in him to lean against my touch, and when he does, he mutters under his breath, "irony-" shudder, "-would be if the- N-Northern princ-ces-s-ss died in the cold."

My face contorts and yet I cannot help but chuckle at him, glad he can sputter his nonsense again, "then I should make Caraxes burn you for your stupidity."

I shiver when I feel his icy lips kiss my neck. Goosebumps form on my skin when I feel the hot breath that follows. My hands rake up to his nape, where I then dig my fingers as I pull away.

"N-n-nno!" he stutters, hands coming around my hips to brace me tightly, "I ss-swear I'm not warm yet-t-t."

I pull back again though to face him when I said, "I only wanted to tell you," I lean my forehead against his face, "I fucking told you so, you stupid idiot."

I rest my face on his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing I would not be off him any time soon.

I dream about him. I dream about kissing his shivers away. I dream about pulling the fur blanket that separated our legs away, and riding him until he was warm.

I dream about how good he feels, and how he burns inside me. I dream about calling his name, unlike how I did in my other dreams. I was no longer calling out in betrayal, I was calling out in pleasure.

Daemon.

Daemon.

"Daemon," I trail off in a groan, willing my heavy eyelids open. I feel pressure building up inside me before I understand what's happening.

I not know how, but I am laid on a bed, head on a pillow, form still naked. Daemon is sat up beside me, peering down at me and his hands.

I whine.

His fingers-

"Oh fucking hell," he groans as his other hand begins to knead at my breasts, "you feels so good wrapped around my fingers, I-"

I cut him off with my squeak, hands flying to his arm, thighs closing shut, squeezing this hand in between my thighs.

"Daemon," the dazed quality of my voice is gone.

He tilts his head, face twisting, a challenge.

When I struggle and wrangle against him, all it takes is his hand on my throat to make me go still. I barely manage a choke and my breath continues to leave me as his fingers quicken their pace inside me.

He only releases me after I shake and shudder when I come.

It is overwhelming and nothing at all like I have dreamed or imagined, unlike all the times I've touched myself in secret. It was intense but there was a shame tied to it.

My entire body is hot and tears prick my eyes at his relentless ministrations.

"You were too fucking ready for that," Daemon mutters dryly as he quickly pulls away and shifts in his spot, "how long have you imagined fucking me, hmm?"

Before I even have the brain to do something, he crawls down the bed, "was it when you caught me touching myself to you?" He sinks down, grabbing my legs, "or have you done it before and withheld me of your sweet cunt for no fucking reason?"

All at once, he brings his face between my legs and begins to lick all the slickness off my pulsing core.

"DAEMON!" I scream, pressing my thighs close as I push myself up on my elbows, trying to break free of him.

He ignores me and forces my legs open even as I kick them in protest, "you will not deny me something you so clearly want yourself."

He grunts and pushes my legs down before grabbing my hands that were shoving him away, "you fucking bitch," he grips me tightly, "you will not find it in yourself to fight me off once I make a whore out of you."

I growl at his words, feeling my stomach drop along with my tears because of it.

I was realizing just how strong he really was, and how in moments where our arguments got a bit physical, he has probably holding back. The revelation of this does not cease my attempts at freeing myself, but it is as pointless as I feared.

Daemon rises up from his spot, nearing me, up until he is breathing against my cheek and rubbing his hardened length against my wetness.

I turn away from him, unable to really do anything else and shudder as he speaks, "you said it yourself, you did not go through all this trouble marrying me for nothing."

I screw my eyes shut, feeling tears fall, "Daemon."

He shushes me, pulling my arms up above my head, "you should not worry. I refuse to die now that I know of your lust."

I whimper as he rolls his hips against me, "still, the idea of someone claiming you- fuck-" he groans gutturally, "had I died..." he trails of in another groan, "someone else would have gotten my prize and it would have been all be your fault."

Daemon squeezes my wrist in one hand then grabs my jaw, forcing me to turn to him. I keep my eyes shut though as he heaves hotly, "I should utterly ruin every part of you so you can never have anyone but me. Though make no mistake, I would never let that happen as I so fucking breathe."

"Hypocrite," I scoff.

He laughs and I tense at the feeling of his vibrations, "she speaks."

I dare to look at him as I pant, "you do not desire me. You're just a spoiled brat who merely wants to wet his cock, just like how you do every night."

"Oh," he groans, "is this jealousy I hear?" He squeezes my cheeks, "is my pretty whore jealous that she is not the only one?"

"Fuck you!" I manage out though muffled.

Daemon laughs at the feel of tears rushing down his fingers, "do not cry, foolish wife. I'll have you know I have not wet my cock ever since I called out your name when I fucked someone else before our wedding day."

He releases my face. I attempt to even out my breath.

"I hadn't even realized until she asked me who-"

"And you think you deserve an award for that?!" I quip through my heavy breathing.

He lets out a laugh that makes me whimper, "I think you ought to know that mine own want for you has made everyone else undesirable," he licks my cheek, making me pull my head away from him, "I have been so pent up in want and for what? Because you're too bull headed to allow me anything other than my lonely hand?"

I try to wrangle out of his grip again, and he presses his whole body on me in response, "it's quite adorable that you still have it in you act like you didn't just call my name out loud while you dreamt of fucking me."

He rubs his nose against my jaw, "you wanna know how I know?"

"Fuck off-"

"You were rutting against me like a hussy," he sighs, "by the gods, had I known you were so wanton at night, I would have never granted you the insult of sleeping alone."

I could feel myself burn hotter with each word that leaves his lips despite myself. I did not want him to catch me like this, but there was no use; I was already caught.

As Daemon rocks his hips on mine, he hisses, undoubtedly feeling how much wetter I had gotten was beneath him.

"Fuck," he trails off, "here's what going to happen," he whispers, rutting against me rougher.

I cannot for the life of me withhold my whimper.

He chuckles as he presses his face against mine, "I'm going to make you come with my tongue and then I'm going to fuck you until you cry."

"Daemon, please stop-"

"Your heartbeat against my cock and how fucking wet you are disagrees with your protest, little liar," he croons. He lifts his head, then leans his forehead against mine, "don't worry, my little virgin, you will not cry because it hurts, you will cry because you'll want it so bad that it hurts."

"Daemon-"

"You will not refuse me," he whispers, though it is anything but sweet, "not when there is not a sliver of doubt in my mind that you want this too."

He brings his hands to my neck again and I wait for his grip to tighten, but it does not, "now say it."

I look up at him as my breathing quickens.

"Yield," he commands, breathing heavily all of a sudden.

I look up at him feeling my belly swirl in ways I could not ever explain.

"Admit to both our ears that you burn for me just as I have been fucking burning for you."

I yelp when he puts pressure on my throat then releases it.

"Say it," he barks.

"I-"

"Say you want me," he says softer this time.

I am disarmed by his quick change in tone and a shiver leaves me as the cold finds its way to my belly as he pulls away. Daemon releases my hands then begins to crawl down. His eyes are fixed on my as he mutters once more, "say it."

I shudder as he presses my thighs against his cheeks then whispers, almost begging, "say it."

I turn away from him and close my eyes, awaiting his next actions, for it was not like I could stop him if I refuse.

"Say it," he urges louder, "you know you want to."

I clench my jaw, "just do what you want and be done with it."

He growls, and goosebumps form on my skin when I feel him bite at the inner most part of my thigh. I grip at the sheets at the feel of teeth and tongue. I bite my lips tightly to keep myself from making any noise.

"I should, shouldn't I?" Daemon mutters.

I yelp and look down at him when his finger strokes my core.

His eyes are dark as he airily chuckles at my reaction, "after all I have given you my name, my Targaryen queen. You are no longer your own, you are forever mine."

I watch him as he lifts his head up and kisses my sopping heat. I flinch when he nips at me, drawing my nub out with his teeth. He lifts his head as he releases my flesh. His chin is glistening with my slick as he says, "I want you."

My breath leaves me when he says this.

"And I know you want me too, but I have to-- I need you to say it." He repositions himself in my thighs, "you are after all married to maniac," he breathes against me, "now, say it."

He shakes my thighs, "SAY IT!"

"I want you," I snap, "Daemon, I-" a loud cry rips out of me before I can even continue.

The sound of him lapping his tongue on me, eating me out as if I was his final meal, was somehow louder than my cries. I cannot help but so violently react to him as he devours me. He forces me still in his grip and fights off the movement of my thighs with his face.

It seems as though my admittance has reduced me into nothing but needy sounds.

Without another thought, my hands reach down at him and dig into his silver hair. I arch my back and pull at him when his tongue flicks into me.

"Fucking slut," he mutters, squeezing my thighs as he pulls me apart.

I scream out his name as he digs his face deeper into me. I lift my head up when he pulls away to laugh, "look at you, rutting against me like the needy whore you are."

I don't have time to find offence in his words because I still, not even realizing I was in fact moving my hips against him. He laughs as he continues his work, leaving me no time to feel embarrassment and only hot pleasure.

He is fucking good at what he does. He's so fucking good that my mind wanders where it should not. How much practice has he gotten to be this good? It is precisely because of this that I finally break, "all for you, Daemon," I grab his cheeks, "all for you-- all mine."

I do not see how his eyes dart up to me for I then throw my head back and whine. I feel myself come close to my undoing, "fuck, Daemon, don't stop."

I shriek when I bites me.

Just as I am inching so close, all at once, he pulls away from me.

I pant and stiffen as I hear and feel him spit on me. Much like all other moments, I do not have time to react. When I turn to him, he grabs my legs and shoves me to my side.

I begin to panic when he rises to his knees.

"I'll be fucking damned if I don't make you come on my cock right now," he grunts, making my eyes drop down to the very thing, erect, hard, and angry.

"Get on your knees, bitch," he blurts, though he doesn't give me much of a chance to as he drags me up into the position he wants me by my hips.

I haven't even propped myself up on my arms yet when he unceremoniously begins to pound into me.

I am certain if anyone could hear us in the middle of this storm, they would think I was mad, or worse, being tortured.

"I'm going to breed that prurient wolf in you, just as I'm sure your wolf, Havoc, is being bred right now."

I growl at the idea and feel my belly tighten at his words.

Daemon groans before he chuckles, "that's it, isn't it?"

His relentless thrusts begin to grow sloppy. Suddenly, he yanks me by my hair and lifts me up. His other hand slaps to my throat to offer painful support as he pulls me up against him.

I choke on my spit when my form presses against him with difficulty. He sinks down on his knees, my core wrapped around his length as he shifts me in a snug position atop him.

His hands make their way to my breasts to roughly grope them. His teeth sink down on my shoulder.

I release a wild sound as my own hands come on top of his. I am left moaning at how his mouth sinks into my skin.

Daemon makes sure to suck hard before pulling away. For a moment he catches his breath before speaking, "you did not want me here because you are affected by your wolf's heat, aren't you."

The way I begin to slowly bounce on top of him is enough of an answer to him.

He laughs as his hands depart from my tender breasts, one going down to my sensitive nub, the other sealing my throat again, "you are a fucking selfish bitch for keeping your cunt from me."

My breathing becomes arduous when he tightens his grip around me.

"You would have preferred to touch yourself to the thought of me?" he questions as he rubs on my sensitive nub.

"Daemon," I gasp, pushing my head back as his lips latch on my neck again.

He ceases the moment of his fingers as he finishes grazing on my skin. "Yes, my pretty whore?" he mutters in between his kisses, "what do you want, hmm?"

My breathing strains when his hand tightens around my throat more. I catch my breath when he releases his grip to push my hair off to the side, "tell me what you want me to do to you."

I call out his name. He calls out mine.

I find myself grabbing his hands as I moan out, "I want you to fuck me."

Without another word, I am thrown down to the bed. The only reason I'm still on him is because of his hands that latch on my hips.

I am nothing against his strength. He handles me like a ragdoll, fucking me with absolutely no regard and nothing else in mind.

I make sounds that mean nothing. His name is polluted by my whimpers and cries that you cannot make head or tail of.

I would not last any longer with how he was handling me, even if I wanted to, even if I tried.

"That's it my easy bitch," he pants, "come around me like the needy whore you are."

"Daemon-"

"Your eager cunt will take my seed well when I fill you up," his one hand leaves my hip and rips my head back by my hair again, "don't you think, pretty wife?"

"Yes," I reply without thinking, "yes, yes, yes, yes-"

"And you will give me your pups," he mutters, "bare my dragons, like a dutiful wife will you not?"

My only response is my body breaking orgasm. I shiver beneath him, falling powerless as I scream his name and crumble, absolutely boneless.

Daemon lets out a string of curses as he milks out my reaction for all he's got.

He does not waver once bit and it maddeningly delicious.

My voice hikes up when I feel him release inside me not too late after.

"Fucking come slut," he barks as he snaps his hips in me, "take it all just like that."

I bury my screams in the cushions he presses on, unrelenting. When he finally does grow sloppy, I take a moment to catch my breath and relish the feel of him.

I whimper when he pulls away and slaps my ass.

"The absolute mess you've made of yourself," he coos, as he rubs the skin he slapped.

I can feel myself leaking, I can feel it all over my legs, on the sheets, and I could practically feel his pleased smile as he watches the lewd display. I could not bring myself to care at all though, not when my legs begin to fall.

I squeak when Daemon rearranges me on the bed. He is not at all as rough as he was with me a while ago, but his strength and my lack thereof does not really allow him to be gentle.

He falls onto the side of the bed next to me and gathers me into his chest. When I roll over to him, I groan at the feeling of my wet thighs pressing together.

"Do not make issue of that," Daemon says as he watches me squirm. He pulls me close to him, arm over my shoulders. His other hand hooks behind my knee, dragging me atop him. I whimper and push my hand on his chest when I feel core empty out on his thigh.

He does not allow me to pull away and I turn to him because of this. Daemon forces me close against him, "are you so haughty over my come that you cannot bare the thought of it-"

"But it's getting everywhere," I start off loudly but end with a whisper.

Daemon's nostrils flare as he shakes his head, "I should sure hope so."

I feel my cheeks burn and so I decide to hide my face in his chest.

His laughter intensifies, and I do not enjoy how my head bounces on his ribcage because of it.

"Oh meekness suits you well, my dear."

I weakly mumble, "fuck off."

His amusement continues as he rubs my arms, "you mean, 'I want you to fuck me, Daemon.' "

"I did not say it like that!" I quip, lifting my head as I turn to him, finally making him cease his stupid laughter. The sight of his stupid smug face still glimmering in slick renders me frozen.

Suddenly I am aware of how cold the room still was.

"Pray tell, how did you say it?" he hums, pushing hair behind my ear.

I furrow my brows and press my cheek on his chest again, admitting lowly, "I didn't say your name at the end."

"My," he draws shapeless figures on my skin, "I'm glad to know the moment is burned in your very being."

"Fuck off," I mutter under my breath, scratching my eye. It dawns onto me that my face was equally as wet as Daemon's. Heat rises up my face again when I realize I really did cry because of how good he felt.

"Don't fret," he sighs, "there is a reason why you should not worry yourself about how your pretty cunt is leaking blood and come. I shall fuc-"

I turn to him in concern and push myself up.

Daemon furrows his brows and shakes his head, "it is normal," he soothes, grabbing my cheek, "or did you just forget your maidenhood was still intact after imagining fucking me?"

I am suddenly aware how real everything was. My husband has finally gotten me to consummate our marriage and all his talk of me bearing his seed could may well come true. My chest begins to constrict as my mind floods with endless scenarios.

"Well, if you start frowning like that, I might actually feel bad," Daemon mutters, lifting himself up on his elbows, "what's wrong?"

I look at his concerned expression and find myself speaking before I realize, "did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" he clarifies quickly.

"That you want me," I quip just as fast.

He stares at me for a moment, as if he was taken aback or measuring the truthfulness in my voice. When a prolonged moment passes between us, he realizes I was serious.

"Fuck," he drops his head back, "it must be exhausting to be a woman with your overthinking."

"Well, pardon me for not-"

"You are pardoned," he blurts, making me whimper when he suddenly flips us over.

I am beneath him again. He does nothing but press his weight on me, but I struggle beneath him, not enjoying the idea of remaining in an uncomfortable position.

He misreads my intentions and hinders me from moving, as he wraps his arms around me, "I just told I want you, that I burn for you, that I want you to mother my children. Do you honestly think I am one to say that to anyone?"

I gulp as he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of my neck, "I..." he breathes against my skin. He does not continue as he opts to kiss my neck instead.

When I move to wrap my own arms around him, he speaks again, "I am at your mercy. You saved me from freezing to death when you could have easily decided to rid of me."

I press my cheek against him and begin to comb through the long hair on his back, "I was serious about my distaste to remarry."

"Well, you will not," he quickly retorts, "you will have me until the end."

I bring my legs around him as I release a sigh, "consider me overjoyed by the thought."

He chuckles as he shifts, "you do not sound-"

"I did not want to admit it," I cut him off, "but I think I..." I turn to him as he lifts his head, "I think I... care for you, Daemon... I-"

"Love you," he finishes, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

And for the first time since our nuptials, he kisses me. He kisses me not because he has to, not for the sake of showing everyone present, but because he wanted to, for the sake of showing me.

He is nothing but warmth, nothing but fire, nothing but him. Daemon is not sweet, but in this moment he put even honey to shame.

He begins to stir on top me, though he makes sure his lips do not leave mine. It is because of my moan that we are broken apart, the moan that leaves me when I feel him slip inside me.

"Daemon-"

"You know how I fuck," he sighs, rubbing his nose against mine, "but now we'll both know how I make love."

[wri0thesley]

Nat, I am affectionately demanding Praskovya thoughts

HERE ARE SOME FACTS ABT MY BELOVED LITTLE OC:

cw for uuh. yandere behaviours i guess, that exists in their backstory fgnkjbjnkf. deaths.

praskovya is a well-known classical singer; thanks mostly to pantalone, their 'patron's' influence.

praskovya comes from a reasonably poor family; they have two elder brothers and one younger brother. they worked as various kinds of labourers and fishers and hunters, but it really wasn't much for a family of five, especially as their parents were sickly and healthcare is not free in snezhnaya.

consequently, they went off to 'make their fortune', and whilst singing in seedy taverns and grubbing what mora they could, they encountered regrator, who felt that their . . . potential was being squandered. he offered them a nice, comfortable residency in the snezhnayan capital, a steady stream of income, the best doctors for their parents, comfortable roles in the fatui for their three brothers where they could earn mora too without being in the direct line of fire - in return for a certain amount of their earnings and allowing him to be their patron.

. . . honestly, praskovya was very much a naive country bumpkin, and when pantalone began to pay other kinds of attentions to them, they were thrilled at being wanted by someone so handsome and charming, and didn't realise they'd made themselves a caged little songbird until it was too late for them to do anything about it.

their parents died, despite the doctor's care. two of their brothers perished in action, too; despite pantalone's assurance of their safety. the third chose to be moved to a more active duty. so they had nowhere else to go - and their life was comfortable and they had everything they wanted and so why would they want to leave--

you may have noticed that praskovya has an anemo vision. yeah. they actually got that when they left home, and it may or may not be why they stood out amongst other hopefuls vying for pantalone's attentions and influence. you will also remember that anemo visions are for people who desire freedom.

playing along and batting eyelashes and begging someone who's already very indulgent upon you is a good way to carefully get what you want; when praskovya innocent suggested that perhaps they would like to see other nations in teyvat, wouldn't it be a boon for snezhnaya's tourism and reputation for one of their 'celebrities' to tour, and praskovya has been taught so many beautiful songs about the fatui's victories and the tsaritsa's glories and is so patriotic about their home country . . . well. making that suggestion in front of other harbingers certainly helped.

so praskovya was given a retinue of fatui soldiers (very bored and very unhappy to be stuck with such a useless detail) and a carefully constructed schedule that started in liyue (where, at the time, the fatui's links with the millelith were amicable) - and ran away as soon as that first schedule of performances were over.

so. depending on what character i'm daydreaming abt them with depends where they went, but usually they went to monstadt where diluc is EXTREMELY distrustful of this snezhnayan singer at the cat's tail who doesn't seem to want to be seen by any of the fatui diplomats that are still in the area.

some other boring info fgkjnbkjnfg:

four star anemo bow user, mostly a healer/support.

level-up materials: hurricane seeds, fatui insignias, windwheel asters

favoured furnishing sets; bird & blossom park, amidst whispering winds

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Nicole’s Ramblings: ✨ Ethan Winters deserved so much more ✨

In the last few weeks, I’m rewatching Markiplier’s playthroughs of RE7 and RE: Village. And an opinion started to form inside my head - the further I’ve watched, the stronger the opinion got. Honestly, I watched these games being played by multiple people (I just love having creative noise in the background) and this was the first time this shit hit me.

But before I get to say what I think, it would only be fair to explain my personal relationship with this particular game franchise:

Personally, we were a Silent Hill household, and Resident Evil games weren’t a big part of my childhood, so please, I am in no means any sort of an expert regarding this super convoluted storyline and timeline, I just know there’s some sort of Umbrella Company baddies and that Milla Jovovich portrayed the main character in the first movie (which, in all honesty, is one hell of a nostalgic blast for me and one of my all-time favorite horror movies). And… Yeah, people mutate because of T-Virus and they turn into zombies, and then there’s some G-Virus? That’s where any sort of extended knowledge regarding the game series ends.

Now, let’s move to the protagonist of Resident Evil 7 and 8, the one and only Ethan Winters, and why I think he deserved better. I’ll explain why some of it doesn’t make sense to me, but don’t forget this is just an opinion and you don’t have to agree at all.

Ethan Winters. Your normal everyday guy. He’s your neighbor, he’s someone you can bump into anytime; in the downtown, in the restaurant or Home Depot, wherever. Why? Cause he’s just your regular normal everyday motherfucker (author’s notes: if you know the song, I think it suits Ethan perfectly). This guy’s charm lays in him being so normal. He comes to save the day, whips out his ✨  enormous big dick energy ✨ and murders all the bad guys in his way, one by one. Doesn’t matter if it’s the Bakers possessed by Eveline or if it’s Miranda and her lords, Ethan is literally the definition of ‘man literally too angry to die’ and he will make them all perish. And I think he deserved so much more, he deserved better and a lot of it is Mia’s fault, and here is why:

Why the fuck did he go after Mia after that ship video log?

I cannot seem to empathize with this decision made by Ethan and I also know that I am biased against Mia cause I simply cannot stand her. First off, I know Mia was manipulated into sending the video by Eve. I also know and realize that Mia was his wife, I know he loved her insanely much and that he suffered when she allegedly died on the tanker that had crashed during the hurricane (not sure if Ethan was even aware of what happened). She disappeared for three years, right? And I realize that everyone needs their time to mourn and that the pain never truly passes away... But he thought she was missing (without any explanation in that matter), maybe even thinking she died. What would I do if I got to know that my wife not only lied to me for possibly the entirety of our marriage but then she also suddenly fucking disappears for 3 entire years? I’d make sure I take my time to mourn, make myself feel better, start living step by step, and  ✨ I’d fucking move on ✨. What if Mia sent the video to a completely different, changed man who moved on - what if she sent the video to this Ethan Winters? What if she contacted a new, changed man? What if Ethan met a new, amazing girlfriend, then proposed to her, settled down, and started anew? What then? Would he still just storm off to Louisiana just like that? 

And just by the way - Ethan is not ugly, he’s actually quite handsome... So don’t tell me there was not one single woman who’d be interested in him.

But okay, canonically, he did what he did and it was what needed to be done to put the story in motion.

Why, in the name of Lord, did he stay with her AFTER Louisiana?

Now, after everything that happened, Mia and Ethan are saved by no one other than Chris Redfield (hooray!). We know she’s a liar and that she was living a double life. We know Mia has tons of shit to explain and Ethan won’t leave until he listens to all the shit. All of it. Okay, let’s say she explained herself and everything that happened and that she was really sorry and mentally exhausted. They are strangers now - Mia lied, was completely absent (held hostage by Eve), and also is the source of all the shit coming Ethan’s fucking way.

Sure, I get that he had to stay under Umbrella’s little eye (since he came to contact with the mold), but why on Earth did he stay with that woman? They loved each other, but was that love this great? Sure, it could be, but... It just doesn’t seem too logical for me to stay with her. All of the above, I’d be repeating myself.

She continues lying and keeping things away from him. And also, Village happens, having Ethan die just to protect his daughter, whom he loves above all.

This wife, aight. This bitch has the audacity, she has the nerve... Goddamit, just gimme a gun and I’ll finish the deed myself because she's the cause of everything going down. She doesn’t learn throughout the time skip, she still lies to Ethan, she still doesn’t tell him everything that is going on, and then, when she gets swapped by Miranda - Ethan doesn’t even fucking notice? That speaks volumes about what Mia is like.

Keep in mind Miranda probably didn’t know how Mia acts at home, she probably had really sporadical access to modern technologically, she couldn't know how Mia talks to Ethan and she didn’t have her memories - and her own husband, the one who vowed to spend his entire life by Mia’s, side doesn’t see a difference? Don’t forget he witnessed Louisiana - by the logic of things, he’s probably noticed something being out of place like that, right?

No. No, he doesn’t. Ethan just goes 'aight' - and then she's "killed". To be fair, Ethan could've been overlooking it just because this pour soul wanted to take a breath and have a normal life; he was struggling with trauma (to be fair, Mia was surely too), they just moved to the other side of the world, and they had a newborn that was undergoing some monitoring and testing since Umbrella must've known that Rose is a mold baby. And... In addition to that, Ethan isn't the brightest bulb. I digress. But holy fucking shit. I don't think he'd notice anytime soon - God knows for how long was Miranda fucking around his house. And he was like 'okay wifey, let's have dinner!'.

Then, when this is said and done, Ethan goes on a rampage once more - just to find he has a mold baby with Mia (that had been to cut into fucking flasks and), that he HIMSELF is made out of the mold (which Mia clearly "forgot" to mention to Ethan since, again, she has a tendency to lie and don't tell things) and that HE FUCKING DIED, BEING KILLED BY JACK BAKER IN 2017. THAT HE IS DEAD FOR 3 YEARS ALREADY. I digress and once again, I wanna remind you that Ethan is not the brightest - but did he just think that re-attaching limbs at will are normal? He got his hands sawed off, torn off, his entire skull got crashed... How the fuck didn't he figure out he's fucked up too?

And this, all of this, ultimately leads him to his death in the village. 

While he could’ve lived a full, beautiful life. 

___

That's my 3 points about why Ethan Winters deserved so much more. And that Mia is actually the driving force behind all the conflicts. I try to understand her side of the story and her troubles, but I... I just find it so hard to sympathize.

✨ Ethan winters is the world's best dad and deserved better. ✨

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

nugatory | p.jm. | drabble

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. taehyung)

rating: m (18+)

genre: smut | angst | college!au

summary: Park Jimin is many things. Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt. Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend. Park Jimin is a good friend. Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker. Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

warnings: swearing + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts in a car, fingering, penetrative sex) + possible allusions to some infidelity if you squint?

word count: 3.2 k

note: y’all. i couldn’t let butter!jimin keep ruining my life without acting out a bit, could i? this one started off as a pwp, but then i ended up combining it with a plot i had in my head for a while, and this turned into more plot and less porn, but. i’m okay with that, tbh. also! i’ve used one my older styles of writing (going back to 2016-ish) with this one. hope you all like it~ 🥺💜

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

Park Jimin is many things.

He is an astoundingly handsome, cheerful – and yet somehow mysterious – psychology major that you shared Freshman year's communications class with. He is the only rich kid among the majority on campus that doesn't flaunt his wealth to scholarship kids like you. He is kind, helpful, generous – did you mention handsome? – perfectly athletic and perfectly aesthetic.

Park Jimin is a responsible, smart, handsome and musically talented Taekwondo black belt.

He is also someone that gets excited at the prospect of claw machines at fairs. He is also someone that looks at the universe with galaxies in his eyes. He is also someone that doesn’t realize he will always be more exquisite than any art his best friend might ever create.

Park Jimin is Kim Taehyung's best friend.

He is the guy that stood next to Kim Taehyung when Taehyung asked you to the Freshman dance. He is the guy that told you Kim Taehyung has the most gigantic crush on you. He is the guy that set you up on the first of your many dates with Kim Taehyung.

Park Jimin is a good friend.

Park Jimin is a compulsive matchmaker.

Park Jimin is many things – but he is not the guy you should be sitting in a car with, right now.

"You really don't have to worry about me, Jimin," you mumble, eyes flickering all over his face – you always tend to drink him up the best you can, whenever you can. “I know I stupidly called you here, but I was just in shock. I’m okay, now. I’ll be fine.”

"No, I do have to worry." His fingers thread through his hair, your eyes hopelessly follow. "This was stupid and reckless of Tae. I'm sure he'll come back to his senses soon."

You blink. Jimin really has absolutely no grasp of this situation. But he obviously thinks he knows everything, which is making this conversation progressively difficult.

(His muscles bulging beneath his jeans and the t-shirt he wears are a contributing factor in making this conversation difficult, too, you won't lie.)

You breathe out, partly to collect your thoughts, and partly because you've been inhaling too much of his heady cologne and it’s making you think about—

Things. 

It's making you think about things. That you should have no business thinking about. Because you and his best friend have been going on dates. The same best friend who is currently, as you speak, on a date with someone else. Alluding to the reason why you have called up Park Jimin to see you in a confused panic, after ten, at night, at your place.

"Taehyung – he, um. He didn't see us going anywhere. We'd been on nine dates, but… He said he didn't think I was actually as into him as he is into me. He didn't want to go on like that." 

Jimin’s lips part. His brows hike up. You shrug, forcing your gaze away from the gloss on his lips.

“It’s been that way for a while. We were barely even texting. I think he has concluded that I don’t like him like that.”

Jimin rests his forearm on the steering wheel, almost leaning over the center console to catch your gaze. "Do you?"

His eyes pull you in like always and you're lost, just staring into their depths, as your mind ceases to think up thoughts that don't involve you and him naked and tangled up with each other in—

"Sweetheart?"

Your intake of breath is sharp, short and cold. Your insides are just as warm, turning everything in your head into incomprehensible mush. "Y–y–yeah?"

"Are you into Taehyung the way he is into you?" he whispers, and you follow the shape of his lips as they move. “Because you must know, he’s liked for a whole semester.”

You lick your lips, mindlessly nod, and then reach out with a finger to trace his cupid's bow. He doesn't pull away, he doesn't even flinch. "What do you think?"

His warm breath washes over your fingertip as you press it against his lower lip. His body jolts when your nail rims the plush cushion. "I… think he's my bestest friend in the world and he's basically in love with you…"

You shake your head, and your other hand travels past the console to grip his thigh. Your nails dig in. His breath catches. "He's on a date with someone else, as we're speaking."

"I just—he was so into you, I thought you'd be good for each other." 

Past the cloud of, well, something incomprehensible, there is disappointment in Jimin's gaze. And that is how you know he means it. You shouldn't be surprised, really, because Park Jimin always means everything he does, he doesn't have a single conniving bone in his body, but you still are. Part of you has hoped against hope that he set you up with Taehyung to get closer to you, himself. Which – sounds like a really flawed plan and doesn't really make much sense, now that you think about it.

But you still hoped.

Now—

Now, though. Now you know otherwise.

"How can I be good for someone else when I have never even been good for me?" you don't know why you confessed to that, but the words just tumble out of you and you let them. "I'm a mess, Jimin," you whisper, accentuating your point by massaging his lower lip by your index finger. "I destroy people, and I nearly destroy myself in the process. I am an emotional and psychological train wreck. He's better off without me. Anybody would be better off without me."

Jimin grips your hand on his thigh with his own. “Not anybody,” he murmurs, and through his furrowed brows and muddled eyes, you catch an emotion you have been well acquainted with for years, now.

Longing.

Your heartbeat picks up as Jimin massages small circles on the back of your hand. You remove your other hand from his face.

“Yes, Jimin, anybody,” you say with conviction, even as you desperately hope for him to offer himself up as an alternative. “Everything is a wreck inside of my head. I can’t do relationships, I can’t even date someone without messing up.”

His pupils expand and his tongue flicks at his lower lip. His hand tightens in a grip on your other hand. His gorgeously bleached hair curl over the side of his head. "You don’t have to date, then.”

You scoff. “Taehyung would never go for—”

“I’m not talking about Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice comes out three octaves lower. “And you’re not talking about just anybody.”

You nearly stop breathing as he brings his free hand to your face, pushes a tendril of your hair behind your ear and traces a knuckle down the side of your face, your jaw, to hold your chin.

“You say you’re not good for you. Can you try to be good for me, then?" He pulls your face closer to his. “Would you let me save you from destroying yourself? Let me try to take care of the wreckage, hmm?”

Your body spasms when he reaches for the hand you’d retracted, pecks your finger before pulling it into his mouth. His tongue swirls, his teeth scrape and his eyes roll back as he sucks. He lets go with a pop. 

Boy, would you let him take care of whatever he wants.

"Can you, sweetheart? Can you be good for me?" He sounds like he’s at the brink of something, just teetering on the edge, waiting for you to flick a finger before he free-falls.

Well. You’ve been teetering for years now.

"I want to be.” You don’t sound like yourself when you speak.

And you don't sound like yourself when he pulls you on top of him. You don’t sound like yourself when your back hits the wheel, your thighs cage his, your hands instinctively twirl in his hair, and –

Your core presses up against his length. 

He's hard and straining against his tighter than sin jeans. You claw at his t-shirt. He takes it off in a swift, smooth motion — agile and rhythmic in everything he does.

You don’t feel like yourself when your eyes feast him. Because how could you ever get this lucky? How could you ever get to feel Park Jimin’s shirtless self beneath you? You had long since succumbed to your destiny of perishing in pining.

And yet, here you are.

You lean back to marvel at his toned, chiseled angles, you let your fingers smooth over every groove and crevice and line of sinew muscle you can reach. You trace his tight abdomen, nails scraping at the last of his eight-pack before veering towards his toned v-line. You shiver at the dark promises it leads to, looking up to meet his eye. And you shiver more when his feral gaze catches you.

Then he pulls you into a kiss and you're lost.

He tastes like stale coffee and breath mints and bad decisions –

He tastes delicious.

His tongue plunders your mouth, teeth bite into your lips—he pulls, pushes, drinks up, feasts. You throw your all into the kiss, meeting him in the middle with your tongue swirling with his, teeth latching on to suck at it. He groans into your mouth – all loud, and guttural and manly. And then he stops. Pulls away.

His wholly black eyes dig into yours. His lips are wet, swollen and bitten. You did that.

"You have to at least talk to him—"

"I have another important business to tend to, currently."

You grind against him and make your point. He bites down on his lip. His arms snake around your waist to cage you against him, he pulls you down on him. 

You don't recognize yourself when you moan.

Your shirt is off, your shorts are pulled down and your panties are pushed to a side—

"You can never tell him." Park Jimin glides two fingers over your wetness, making a bigger mess of you. "Never."

You don't intend to, because what you do with Park Jimin in your apartment's parking lot at eleven pm on a Saturday night is nobody's business but yours. 

His fingers part your entrance and slide in you abruptly, and you see stars. Your head tilts back on a long, drawn out moan, Jimin’s fingers picking up pace inside you. You rock on his hand, you claw at his arm, you desperately latch onto his shoulders and rest your forehead against his to ground yourself. He watches you with his half shuttered eyes threatening to eat you up whole. 

His lips press into yours, tongue swiping through your mouth, curling up behind your teeth – it's messy, it's sloppy, it's the most arousing kiss of your life.

His lips drag down the column of your neck, tongue licking at the sweat droplets quickly gathering above your collarbones, his fingers curl inside you, his teeth latch onto your shoulder.

You explode under his thumb's press against your clit and sob into his neck when he drags its nail over the sensitive bud. “Jimin, Jimin, too much~ ah!”

He presses some buttons in his fancy car and his seat inclines. He pulls you to the backseat with him. “You okay?” he breathes on your face, hovering inches above you.

“Never been better,” you truthfully breathe back, heart coiling in your chest at the radiant grin he rewards you with in response.

A blast of hot air hits your forehead, your thighs and your shins. You jump, realizing he has turned some sort of hot air blower on. “For privacy,” he says, gesturing to the rapidly fogging windows, and then flicks a switch to make the air stop.

You both gaze at each other. Your eyes flicker all over his face to save every last bit of it to memory. You self-consciously swallow when you see him do the same. “Jimin…”

He leans down to sponge a kiss to your sternum, and then your hips buck into his as his tongue licks a path on the wells of your breasts peeking above your bra. A breathless moan leaves you when he scrapes his teeth over your cloth covered nipple.

You both pause for a moment, wide eyes locking in surprise.

And then you’re ravenous.

He strips you bare when you tug at his belt, and you rush to return the favor. You struggle with getting his boxers past his plump ass as he grips onto your flesh, peppering bites down your hips, squeezes your boobs, licks at your nipples—

You grip him, warm and heavy, and glide your thumb over the leaking tip. His head falls into your nape, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. “Jimin, ple~ase,” you moan.

He plucks out a golden foil from his wallet, meeting your eyes as he tears the packet and rolls the condom onto himself. 

Your hands are pinned next to your head in a flash, his tongue teases your pulse point, teeth toy with your earlobe, and you writhe in want under him, eyes watering at the sweet torture.

And then he fills you up with a single thrust.

You freeze on a gasp.

His hair hangs over his eyes, irises lost to the lust storming in his pupils, his mouth gapes open, his chest is heaving.

“You good?” His voice is deeper than the ocean.

You've never been more turned on in your life.

He hisses at your frantic nod. “Words.”

“Yes. Yes, oh my God, Jimin, move—”

He thrusts into you at an unforgiving pace. Your whole world literally tilts off its axis as he meets that spot inside of you, and your body wrings beneath him, twisting up to hold onto some buoy to ground you, but he is unrelenting even as you grip at his neck — his teeth encase his lower lip, brows furrow and eyelids flutter as he drives deep into you.

You groan at the sight, moving your hips to meet him. You rock with him, never catching your breath, and your nails just dig dig dig into his meaty back, drawing patterns all over the smooth, delicious surface.

Your release closes in on you, and you chase it with your mouth clamping onto Jimin’s neck, your eyes screwed shut as you groan into his skin, until—

He draws back, standing on his knees above you like goddamn Adonis in this goddamn huge SUV of his, and the sight of sweat droplets trailing down his neck, framing his pecs and racing down his tight abs has your whine of protest dying in your throat as you gawk. His lips are parted as he breathes, a couple of sweat soaked hair strands sticking to his brow, and his eyes — 

Oh God, his eyes have an animalistic gleam in them as he hooks his arms beneath your knees, and drags your hips to him.

You cry out when he enters you at this angle, every thrust pushing at what feels like your cervix, and the pleasure is so blinding it's almost painful. One of his hands maneuvers to your center, a finger rubbing at your clit, and you yelp out a distorted version of his name, completely unwarned when waves over waves of hot, sweet, toe curling climax crash into you.

Jimin chases you into completion, his broken moan of your name filtering to you through the post-orgasmic buzzing in your head. His lips connect with yours as he relaxes your legs. You both pant into each other's mouth after two, lethargic, sticky kisses.

Your sweaty bodies make a disgusting sound when you detach, and both of you scowl together, laughing when you catch each other’s expressions. You sit up on jelly legs, barely able to sit on your ass when your sensitive center protests. 

You both dress up in silence, although you don’t feel it to be awkward in the least.

You’re still mulling over how to frame in words what you have felt for him for nearly three years, how to tell him and even what to tell him when you’re such a relationship-phobe, when Jimin releases a long sigh.

You look up in surprise. That was not a contented sound. It was one of… was it defeat?

Jimin looks at you with a serious face.

Your heart plummets.

One of the many things that make up Park Jimin is also his brutal morality. And right now, you can see it in his face that he thinks he’s done something wrong. Your shoulders hunch up in subconscious defense — you will not say a word, you decide.

“Taehyung is my best friend in this entire world,” he begins, stomping firmly on any remaining embers of hope left in your chest. “He can never, ever, ever know this happened, okay?”

You give a numb nod.

“I’m sure he’ll come back around and try to talk to you again. If that happens, don’t feel like you owe me anything, okay?”

You look up to find Jimin’s eyes searching your face. He looks so soft and grave and sad, that it hurts to look at him. You look down and nod again.

“I — I feel like you two will happen, you know, when the time is finally right.” His words sound stiff. Practiced, even. “Don’t let this come in the way of that.”

Even though you decided you wouldn’t say anything, your mouth is nearly bubbling with too much to say, at this point. You take a deep breath. “And what if he doesn’t come back. What then, Jimin?”

Jimin looks at you with wide, clueless eyes. “He…will. At some point.”

“And what about until he comes back? Am I expected to wait around?”

Something crumples in his expressions. “No, of course not. You can do whatever you want. Even after he comes back, you don’t owe anybody anything.”

“Whatever I want, you say?” you ask him quietly, your heart thudding in your throat.

Jimin swallows, obviously catching on. “I mean…I guess?”

“You guess?”

He licks his lips and his gaze zeroes in on yours. “Whatever you want, yes. Certainly.”

“Great.” You take his acquiescence for what it is, and grab his wrist. “Okay, then. Until he comes back, right?”

Jimin nods, haltingly, gaze switching between your hand and your eyes. “Right.”

You feign a smile you don’t actually feel because something about this doesn’t sit right with you. This boy, you realize, deserves a lot more than being someone’s dirty little secret. He is Park Jimin, after all, a guy that is so many things that you could never run out of listing them and— 

Park Jimin is a gorgeous celestial metaphor in himself.

Because he may look at the universe with galaxies in his eyes, but he is your only galaxy, and all your stars shine at you through him when he smiles. 

Park Jimin is many things — but he is not the guy you want to just casually fuck.

But your pathetic self would take anything he would allow.

And so you pull his hand and stumble out of his SUV, sharing shy glances with him as you pull him with you up the stairs, all the way to your dorms.

Park Jimin is many things—

To you.

nugatory (adj.) – worth nothing or of little value.

[hqamore]

boreal star ✵ chapter one

people cannot outrun their past, not even the all-powerful darkling. and it so happens that his past just arrived at the palace gates.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] general kirigan (the darkling/aleksander) x reader

word count: 1.6k

non-english words: durak (a stupid man, a fool) & dorogaya (darling, sweetheart)

note: hope all is well! i was surprised to actually see interactions with the preview, so thank you very much. if you enjoy what you read, a comment goes a long way in terms of encouragement! if you have any questions or see any issues, i welcome pms or asks!

here’s the masterlist

when you arrived at the palace gates, a heavy guard presence and a lengthy line came into your sight. various emotions were scattered amongst the people: anticipation, dread, and hope. the line crept forward, guards tossing out several individuals in the process.

“the palace grounds are not open to visitors! if you do not have official business and papers to vet you, get lost!”

there was a pause followed by a number of sulking ravkans excusing themselves, grumbling about the sun summoner. the guards shook their heads as they continued processing each person.

when it was your turn, the guard gave you a dead look as he scanned your frame. “did you not hear what i said, little one? no papers, no entry.”

you offered him a tight smile. “i may not have any papers, but i think you’ll find the alternative plenty sufficient.”

he raised an eyebrow unconvinced. you rolled your eyes before gathering your hands in front of you. suddenly, he began floating in the air. gasps littered around you. the other guards, seeing their comrade in the air, rushed over and pointed their guns at you. as you lifted your arms in surrender, the floating guard found himself quickly acquainted with the ground again.

you hummed. “a six out of ten on the landing. what d’you think, boys?”

“arrest ‘em!” the guard huffed, straightening himself. “then, alert the king. he’ll want to see this grisha for himself.”

you extended your arms and two guards dragged you with them. “alright, alright. no need to be so rough, lads.” they were unrelenting and marched you right onto the palace grounds.

well, there’s no going back now.

✵ ✵ ✵

you stared up at the ceiling in your cell when footsteps grew closer.

“get up,” commanded a guard.

you lifted your head and gave him a once over. “and for what?”

with the jingle of keys, your cell door creaked open. one of the guards stepped in with wooden shackles. “the king will see you now.”

“oh, lovely.”

a guard pulled you up and yanked your arms behind you, securing them in the shackles.

“you guys certainly like to use force. have you tried talking to someone about it? it’s not good form to treat allies like this,” you chattered.

ignoring you, they pushed you towards the stairwell. you lagged behind them as you took in the nostalgic walls of the grand palace. not much had changed since the last time you laid eyes upon them. it was just as boring as you had remembered.

when you entered the throne room, whispers faded. a guard pushed you onto your knees before presenting you to the king. “this is the grisha we spoke of, your highness.”

the king peered down his nose, expression unchanging.

“is it true you’re grisha?” he questioned.

you looked at him with a small smirk. “would you like a demonstration, moi tsar?”

the guards around you trained their guns on you. you glanced at them unimpressed as you continued, “i mean that with all due respect. i spoke the truth when i said i was grisha. i am only here to help ravka.”

the king rubbed his goatee. “i hear you made a man float. what does that make you?”

“an etherealki.”

“a squaller then?” he speculated.

you shook your head as your smile grew. “a gravity summoner.”

hushed conversations erupted at your words, confusion reflecting in everyone’s faces. the tsar leaned forward in his seat with intrigue.

“i have never heard of such a thing,” he said.

“i do pride myself on being one of a kind,” you drawled. “surely, you would like to see a demonstration.”

he waved an attendant over. “call a heartrender.”

then, he nodded to you. “you understand, don’t you? as king, you can never be too cautious.”

you bowed your head slightly, still maintaining your smile. “i’m honored you’d think of me as a threat.”

“i would be a fool not to,” he snorted.

before the attendant could make it out of the throne room, a dulcet tone spoke from behind you.

“there’s no need, your highness,” it called, sending shivers up your spine. “i came as soon as i caught wind of an unknown grisha.”

you feel the mass of two bodies approaching the king. you tensed as a black ketfa swept past you. met with a familiar silhouette, you held your breath and redirected your attention to the ground.

“though, i am confused, moi tsar. if the issue was about grisha, why did you not call for me?”

the king waved his hand and nonchalantly said, “i wanted you to focus on training the sun summoner. this is a minor issue. no more, no less.”

“i see.” the man nodded to the corporalki who fixed his sight on you. “ivan, listen to their heart and make sure—”

you heard his talking cease once his feet faced you. there was a brief pause. you inhaled deeply before lifting your eyes to meet his. in that moment, your mind raced.

he looks the same as the day i left him... except that cockamamie hair is new. hmph, he’s still stupidly handsome but also plain stupid looking. look at him trying to piece it together.

“general?” the corporalki called, pulling you out of your thoughts.

the darkling cleared his throat and ripped his eyes away from you to look at the guards. “unchain them please. we need to see what kind of grisha they are.”

the guards unlocked your shackles, allowing you to rub your chafed wrists. you pushed yourself up and studied him for a moment. “i should get on with, ya?” you asked.

ivan glanced at his general, concern furrowing his brows at his odd behavior. he returned his focus to you and nodded, raising his hands in front of him. “if you get any ideas… well, i’m sure you’re familiar with what a heartrender can do.”

you let out a mocking laugh. “you’d be surprised at what i could do before you could even start.”

instantly, you felt an intense pressure in your chest, making your knees buckle. the corporalki smirked as blood rushed to your temple. in your struggle, you scowled at kirigan before you centered your hands. you shoved your hands down, increasing gravity’s pull on the heartrender. the pain in your heart let up once he fell to the ground. you gasped for air.

releasing him, you shakily regained your footing and breath. “do not forget, durak, i am not the enemy. you would have already perished if i were.”

slow clapping drew your attention away. the king looked overjoyed.

“that was riveting! general, what do you make of her?”

you raised an eyebrow at his statement. “are you sure? i haven’t even done the fun part. i could do more like make everyone in the room float or...” you trailed.

when you peeked at the shadow summoner, you could see his tense jaw and closed fists. his dark eyes met yours before he turned to the king with a false smile. “i’m sure they will be a valuable asset to ravka with the proper training.”

the king let out a hearty laugh, “i’m sure they will! treat them as though you would treat me, general kirigan. i have a feeling they will win me more than just expeditions across the fold.”

both grisha men bowed and pivoted towards you. kirigan clasped his hand around your forearm before pulling you away from the room. your feet stuttered as you tried to match his pace.

“either slow down or let go of me!”

relentless, he continued to stalk across the courtyard towards the little palace. you tugged away from his grasp and planted yourself with your powers. he circled to face you, rage evident in his glare.

“leave us,” he commanded. without another word, ivan left the two of you.

i suppose he wouldn’t want to do this where there are others.

while he was pacing, you stood there silently and waited for his eventual outburst.

his eyes were closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. a heavy sigh left his lips, “where have you been, [y/n]?”

“shu han, actually. it was quite lovely and the weather was just—”

“saints! [y/n], do i look to be in a gaming mood?” he yelled.

you tilted your head and your lips quirked. “no? then, why act as if you had no idea who i was? were we not playing pretend? you seemed so into the game, general kirigan.”

he closed in on you, his gaze burning. he opened his mouth but no words left it. he gritted his teeth and turned away as his hands clenched and unclenched.

“it has been thirty years, [y/n]. why return at all?”

in a moment of confidence, you inched closer to him. your hands slid up his back, onto his shoulders. you leaned into his ear. “for you, my love.”

you let go and created space between you. he spun slowly, his features riddled with disbelief. “you still have feelings for me?”

breathy laughter escaped you. “feelings for you, darling? don’t be ridiculous. as if any of my past affections for you could bring me back to this over-glorified cage you’ve created. no, aleksander, i’m here to ruin you.”

his body tensed before an arrogant smirk set on his lips. he crept nearer. “ruin me? i’d love to see you try. you forget, dorogaya, i have an army. what do you have?”

“you. or, rather, i know how your mind works. i know your tactics, general. let’s see how you fare when i pick you apart from the inside,” you sang as you brushed past him. “now, come show me to my room.”

continue to chapter two? yes

[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 19

A/N: Hello, my loves! I hope you enjoy this next little part of our story! We are slowly, but surely coming to an end! I’m going to miss this fools so much when it’s time to say goodbye! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of death, slight language

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

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"What are you thinking about, my love?" your head rested on Oberyn’s chest as you slowly woke up to face the day. An arm was draped over your waist as he gently traced aimless shapes all over your bare skin. He huffed lightly before kissing the top of your head, prompting you to press a few kisses to the warm golden skin of his chest. 

“So many things and yet nothing of import all at once,” he admitted as you turned to look at him. Soft brown eyes met yours as you reached up and touched his cheek, “thinking about how glad I am nothing happened to you - that I came just in time. About how headstrong and fierce my sunshine is. About how I can’t wait to get home and get past this, and that from now on we’ll figure things out together.”

“I like the sound of all of that,” you agreed with a wistful sigh, “I’m glad and lucky, to have a husband like you that will always love me and protect me, no matter how silly or foolish I am. You saved me, Oberyn, in more ways than I can count.”

“I’ll always be there,” he promised, “I will never, ever, leave. You know that, silly girl.”

“A silly girl with the best husband,” shifting so you were lying on top of him, you clung onto his warm body as tightly as you could, “I must ask, or I am sure I will surely perish of curiosity - how did I know where I was...what I was doing?”

“You may have thought you were being sneaky, my dear wife, but you were utterly not. I got it out of Asha fairly quickly,” he confessed and you almost huffed with laughter, “I wasn’t fair behind, and I took the fastest steed in Dorne. Your mare is lovely, but she’s not very fast, and neither were you. It wasn’t hard to catch up.”

“Just in time,” you pressed a kiss to his lips, “how utterly perfect. Thank you, my Prince. I could not imagine a fate where I had a husband other than you-”

“I would imagine that if you had a husband other than me, than we would never have fallen into such a predicament,” he reminded you as you gently scoffed at him, “I fear your life might have been utterly more predictable-”

“It would have been a life of boredom and without love.”

“You would have been safe and led a life of quiet calm-”

“I would have hated it. Loathed it,” you reminded him with insistence, “I have everything with you. Love, a family, adventure...happiness. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“I will always give that to you,” he promised; some days he still found it hard to believe that you were actually his wife. This was his fortunate reality, “I love you, my sunshine.”

“I love you, my moon and stars.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Are you ready to go, Oberyn?” you called you into the adjoining dressing chambers as you studied yourself in the gilded mirror, straightening down your dress. Your hands trembled as you reached for the bracelet Arianne had gifted you when you’d joined the Martell family; you tried to clasp it around your wrist unsuccessfully several times before you were ready to give up on it. Your husband was faster, however, and he took your wrist in his hand, gently taking the bracelet from you as he clasped it around your wrist. Letting go, he made a small sound of satisfaction as a small smile spread across your features, “thank you, my love.”

“Of course,” he moved to stand behind you in the mirror, his hands on your shoulders as he looked you over. Leaning into his touch, your heart practically leapt in your chest at the tender embrace, “you look beautiful as ever, Sunshine. I’m ready to go if you are.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you offered your golden prince a firm nod before turning around and pressing a gentle kiss onto his plush lips, “you look very handsome, yourself. A regal sight if I may say so myself.”

“And yet I still pale in comparison to my queen,” he took your hand in his as he pulled moved towards the door, “you’re nervous. Tell me - what’s wrong?”

“I’m just...I am anxious,” you admitted with a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly as you studied the floor, “I just - I want to do this, I do not hold any doubt in my heart about this. But I am nervous...what if the children do not want us for parents? What if they do not want to join our family? What if I’m a bad mother-”

“I won’t hear a word of this negativity,” he quickly cut you off by pressing his index finger to your lips, “you are a wonderful mother already, and I won’t hear a word otherwise and I have at least eight young women that agree with me. Those children absolutely adore you, it’s easy for anyone to see, including me. I know nothing I say will ease your nerves or worries, but please know that you have nothing to fear. I am always by your side, and you will always have my support. We’re a team, and we can get through anything.”

“You just always know what to say, don’t you, Oberyn Martell?” your worries eased up ever so slightly as a weak smile pulled on your lips. He put a finger under your chin and tilted your face up towards him, “you really think they’ll be okay with this? What if...what if they say no?”

“They will not,” he promised, “I swear it.”

“One day I will have your confidence,” you huffed in jest as he laughed lightly before pulling you towards the door. 

“It comes with age, Sunshine,” he insisted, “but for now, you’ll just have to take my word for it. Come on - let’s go and fetch our children.”

As soon as you heard the words our children, you stopped in your tracks and gave him a soft, hopeful little smile. The whole concept of motherhood and having children was something that was still often on your mind. Some days were worse than others, but it was slowly getting better each day. You were slowly coming to terms with the idea that being a mother meant so many different things. It wasn’t just about sharing blood with someone, it wasn’t just about giving birth to someone, it was about love. And that was all that mattered in the end. 

“I like the sound of that,” you whispered gently as a wide grin stretched across his handsome features, “our children.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “if you ever have a moment of doubt, a moment of worry or anything, you have me. Just say the word, and I will do whatever it takes to help you. I love you; that’s something you know you never have to worry about.���

“And I love you,” you promised, “I...I think I’m ready - let’s do this.”

“As you wish,” you took his hand and slowly started to walk out of your chambers and into the long hallway. The door at the other end of the hall, the one that had once led to your separate chambers was wide open. You’d taken care along with Asha to set everything up and prepare for your new family members. You hoped the twins would like their room; and if not, you’d do whatever it would take until they did, “away we go.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hi Saria. Hi Alistair,” you found your favorite twins playing outside in the gardens of the orphanage that had become like a second home to you. As soon as they spied the two of you, they’d stopped chasing each other and shrieking, and bounded over to you instead. The young twins wrapped their arms around you as they hugged onto your waist; you couldn’t help but lean down and hugged them back, “I’ve missed you two.”

“You’ve only been gone a few days,” Saria laughed as she reached for your hand. Alistar followed suit and grabbed Oberyn’s hand, “but we missed you too. No one plays with us like you do.”

“Saria, my little love,” you turned to Oberyn and he gave you a small nod, “Alistar, there’s something we would like to talk to you two about. Something very important.”

“A-are we in trouble?” Alistar’s little eyebrows knitted together as he looked nervous between the two of you, “we’ve been good!”

“No, no, no,” you promised before ruffling his dark hair, “well, I guess I’ll just tell you right now. I hope you both know that Oberyn and I love you two very, very much. We’ve been thinking a lot about this and well.. if you guys would agree to it, we would like for the two of you to join our family - to come live with us at the Watergardens.”

The twins' eyes widened as they looked at each other before they turned to look at the two of you with excited expressions on their faces. Your stomach was full of butterflies and your heart threatened to burst out of your chest as you anticipated their response. At least they hadn’t turned down your offer immediately and they appeared to be enthusiastic. 

“Does that mean...would you be our mother?” Saria asked you softly, her little features drawn into a curious expression, “would you be our parents?”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you looked over at Oberyn. A big smile was on his face as his arm wrapped around your waist before he gave you a supportive nod, “we would like to be - we want to be your parents if you’ll have us.”

“We’d get to come and live with you all the time?” Alistar was practically beaming as he nudged his sister in the ribs, “you’d be our family! We’ve never had a family before...”

“Yes,” Oberyn promised him, “you’d come and live with us, and have a big, large family, with lots of sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles, and so many more. Whatever you could want, we want to be able to give it to you. How does that sound to the two of you?”

Saria almost threw herself into your arms as she nodded eagerly, her eyes glistening with tears. You quickly met her efforts and picked her up, balancing her on your hip as she buried her face into your shoulder and put her arms around your neck, “we’ve never had a mother before - or a father.”

Squeezing her back tightly, Oberyn picked up the young boy and clutched onto him just as fiercely. At that moment, you weren’t sure who needed the hug more, the Prince or his newly anointed son. 

“Now and forever more, you have a Mother and a Father,” your husband promised them, brushing the young girl’s stray curls out of her face, before giving each of them a kiss on their chubby little cheeks, “we love you both, very, very much.”

“We do,” you agreed, your heart fit to bursting as you basked in the glow of your little family. The feeling was almost overwhelming; this was everything you could have ever wanted, even if you hadn’t known it, “what do you two say? Shall we go home and you can see your new rooms and meet some more of your family?”

“Can we still come back here and see our friends?” Alistar asked, “we like them a lot.”

“Of course, my love,” you promised, “we can come back whenever you want and see your friends. We’ll make sure they know they’re not forgotten and that we love them too.”

“Then let’s go home!” Saria chirped excitedly, “we can come back later and tell them everything! I want to go see everything. Do you think there will be berries in the kitchens?”

“As the Prince, I require that there are always fresh berries at my disposal,” Oberyn promised her with a serious expression on his face, causing you to giggle at his silliness. He really was an amazing father - there was no other man that you would want as the father of your children, “and now you, as the daughter of the prince, you will have all the berries you could ever want and then some. How does that sound?”

“Perfect!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The twins were fast asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the soft pillows of their new beds. They’d been running around all day, getting acquainted with their new home and the new members of their family and household. They were most excited to see the younger girls again - their new sisters, Oberyn had gently, but enthusiastically, reminded them several times. After dinner, a meal with the entirety of the household, they’d started to yawn and nod off, despite their best efforts. But the large meal had led to full bellies and their energy was quickly drained. 

You’d each taken one of them in your arms as you carried them to bed, taking turns to tuck them both in, bundled them up in their velvety soft blankets. There were sleepy little smiles on their faces as you kissed their foreheads and wished them a good night. 

Before you could blow out the last candle and leave them for the evening, Saria had reached for your hand and softly asked for a bedtime story. Your features softened as you agreed to tell her one; you’d cast a look at Oberyn and he had quietly promised you that he’d be waiting in your chambers for you. 

You’d wracked your brain for a story, eventually settling on telling her the age appropriate version of the tale of Nymeria, the warrior queen who united Dorne and made the land what it was today. The young girl had listened intently, an eager and curious expression on her face as Alistar snored lightly across the room. Before you could get too deep into your story, the young girl - your daughter - was sound asleep as well. 

Touching her cheek gently, you studied her for a moment before giving her one last kiss and heading back to your own chambers. Closing the door as quietly as you could, a tired, but happy sigh escaped your lips. All this bliss that you had been blessed with - and now you had the privilege of returning to your best friend, lover and husband. 

Treading lightly across the hall, you nudged open the door to your room and found Oberyn in bed, propped up against the headboard as he read a book intently. As soon as he heard you, he stopped what he was doing and set the book on the small table as his side of the bed. A sweet smile crossed your features as you closed the door behind yourself and observed him for a moment.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such a saccharine glance?” he tilted his head to the side as he pushed back the blankets and patted your side of the bed, “I have done many things in this life, some good and some bad, but whatever I did to deserve you was the best thing ever. I’ll thank the gods, old and new, for all eternity for blessing me with my sunshine.”

“I did not know you placed such faith in the gods, my dear husband,” you laughed at his silliness as you pushed your robe off of your shoulders and let it pool on the floor at your feet, “but surely there must be something good that exists if you brought you to me. You are the best thing to happen to me, whether or not you know it.”

“I place my faith wherever it is deserved,” he held out his hand to you and you fell into an easy cadence as you slipped into the bed and sat in the open space between his legs. His hand went to your cheek as he brushed his calloused fingertips over your soft skin. It was a contrast as sharp and beautiful as the two of you; one hardened and world weary and one soft and gentle, still learning the ways of the world. Like a perfect harmony, the two of you balanced each other, just like the sun and the moon seemed to do. You wouldn’t have changed a thing, “right now, I place my faith in you, my sweetest wife.”

“And I you, dear husband,” you looked into his soft brown eyes. He hummed in content as you carded a hand though his dark curls, causing him to keen into your touch. Leaning forward, you leaned against him, cuddling up to him as much as possible, “thank you.”

“Whatever for, sunshine?”

“For loving me,” you whispered softly, “for staying by my side even when I was not the most level headed. For showing me what family really means - for making me a mother. You have given me everything I could have ever wanted, even when I did not realize I needed it or even desired it myself. You are not only my best friend, my lover, my prince, or my moon and stars. You truly are everything to me.”

He was silent for a long time, only slow, steady breathes exchanged between the two of you. Inhale - exhale as he studied you. Nothing needed to be said; not really anyway. It felt like he was gazing into the very depths of your soul, the darkest parts that you didn’t even see, and he was taking time to memorize every single last bit of you. It was strange in a way, how vulnerable and open he still managed to make you feel despite the fact that he knew you more intimately than anyone else in the world. But that was part of the illusion of being human; no matter how well you knew someone, there were always parts to them to discover.

“I wish I could accurately convey even a fraction of how much I love you,” his voice was low and raspy as he pressed his lips against the shell of your ear, “perhaps words are not sufficient, but I will spend every day showing you…”

“Oberyn-”

But before either of you could say anything else, a loud knock on the door cut you off. A small huff escaped your lips as Oberyn dramatically rolled his eyes, remembering all the could have been moments that were interrupted before the two of you had made love for the first time. At least this time you hadn’t been in the middle of anything too...intimate.

“My Prince? My Lady?” Asha sounded nervous as called to you from the other side of the door. A look of concern grossed your features at her nervous tone as you shifted out from Oberyn’s lap. It wasn’t like her to be nervous or sound so distressed, “I-I’m sorry for the interruption. I come with news.”

Oberyn offered a supportive nod as you grabbed your discarded robe and slipped it back on before opening the heavy wooden door. On the other side, Asha looked like a deer caught in lights as a worried expression was etched into her features as her dark eyes flitted from you to Oberyn. Reaching towards the young girl, you gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “what’s wrong, Asha? Is everything alright? Did something happen? The child-”

“They’re fine,” she reassured you as she turned to glance down the hall to ensure their door was still closed, “everyone here is fine. It’s...there’s been news, from Honeyholt.”

“News?” Oberyn was up and at your side in a flash, his hands on your waist as he raised an eyebrow at her, “what news could be coming from there?”

Your heart was beating wildly as your mind raced with every single possible thought of what it could possibly. The worst thing was that somehow you, or even worse, Oberyn, were in trouble for what had happened those long weeks ago. Surely that wouldn’t have caught up with either of you so later.

“My Lady, I...I’m afraid there’s been a murder,” she wasn’t quite upset with the news, as no one in Sunspear would be considering they knew about the tense relationship between your families, but she still seemed surprised. Your brows raised so high, almost disappearing into your hairline as you turned to look at Oberyn. He was just as perplexed as you were, “your brother - Lord Beesbury. H-he was found dead in his study this evening. News just reached us.”

“Eaton?” his name spilled from your lips, laced with venom as Oberyn’s grip on your waist tightened, “he’s dead? How...how on earth? Who did this?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much more,” she held out her hand and offered you a sealed scroll. The golden, wax seal in the shape of a bee instantly gave away its origins, “I-I’ll leave you two alone. If I can do anything, please let me know.”

“Thank you, Asha,” you offered her a meek half smile as you  closed the door behind her and tightly clutched at the scroll. Oberyn’s face was a pointedly neutral mask as you held the scroll to him, “what news - do you think it could be true? I-it can’t be from….me.”

“Don’t be silly, sweet girl,” he almost huffed at your jest and you instantly felt a sense of relief flood your veins. You were a lot of things, but a murderer you were not, as Oberyn had reminded you, “the little bit of damage you inflicted would have long been healed by now.”

Nodding in understanding you sank back down on your soft bed and watched as he unsealed the parchment and read over it. His dark brows knitted in concentration as he read over the loopy scroll. You weren’t as familiar with it as that of other members of your family - it wasn’t your mother’s certainly. A few sounds of curiosity escaped his lips as he took it all in.

“What does it say?” you as he went over to his bureau and set it down, while leaning against the desk and letting out a long sigh, “do they know who did it - and what exactly it was?”

“The letter is from your brother, your middle one, Aeron,” he explained as you shrugged. You were never close with him, and had no real feelings one way or the other towards him, “he’s to be the new Lord. He said that they found your Eaton, by himself, slumped over at his desk. A single wound to his neck proved to be fatal. No signs of forced entry and apparently no one saw any one come and go or anything suspicious.”

“That’s suspicious enough on it’s own,” you whispered softly as he just shrugged in agreement, “I-I’d wonder who would do this to him, but it could be a multitude of people. He was not a good man and surely he made plenty of enemies.”

“He made his own bed,” Oberyn insisted, “the better question is - how do you feel?”

“I feel...nothing,” you confessed, “not one way or the other. I have never harbored any love for him, and he never did for me. We were nothing alike besides the fact that we shared the same blood. He was his own undoing; I can’t say I’m upset or surprised. All I hope is that Aeron ends up a better man than Eaton was.”

“That’s all we can do,” he cast a dismissive glance at the parchment, before walking over to you, “you’ll be alright, won’t you, Sunshine?”

“Of course,” you insisted, “like I said - they were no family of mine. But I am glad it was not by my hand. It would have been a hard thing to live with. And you were right...I wouldn’t have been able to actually do it.”

“That’s what I tried to prevent,” he kissed the top of your head as you looked over the bureau. It was then that something caught your eye; on the scroll there was something small, barely visible to the eye on the back side. He noticed you tense up and pulled back, “what’s wrong?”

“The parchment,” you slid onto your feet and siddled past Oberyn as you snatched it into your hands. A frown crossed your features as you turned it over and found a few symbols on the backside, in the lower left corner. If you hadn’t been looking for it, you almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed it; it was clearly - and cleverly - designed to go unnoticed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked as you held it up to the light and pointed at the symbols, “it’s a message, isn’t it?” 

“I think so,” you touched over them, and tried to wrack your brain as to who it could be from him. Narrowing your brows as you studied them and then...it hit you. You knew those symbols, “this one - it’s a bee, for me, I think. I used to draw a bee like that all the time when I was a child, a horrible attempt really at trying to draw the family bee. But this other one...there’s only one person that I’ve ever known to draw this.”

“Who?”

“Sarvon,” you quickly thought of your oldest, and dearest, friend back in Honeyholt, “we’d always play together as children, including reading, writing, and drawing. He’s always liked flowers, and he’d try to draw them a lot. This is one he used to draw - a crude daisy.”

“So, they’re your personal symbols of sorts?” he took the parchment you held out to him, and thumbed over the ink that blended in almost perfectly with paper, “clever boy. He must have known, or at least hoped, you would see them.”

“I think...possibly, do you think that...he’s the one that did this?” you gave him a quizzical expression as you tried to imagine Sarvon doing something that vastly deviated from his gentle and calm nature, “do you think he’s trying to tell me that?”’

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly as you plopped back down on the bed and let out a long sigh, “I don’t know if we’ll ever have an actual answer. I find it doubtful that he would ever admit such a truth if we were to directly confront him. It would be a large gamble to tell anyone, especially us, if that is indeed what he had. Do you think him capable of such a thing?”

“I never would have thought so,” tossing the parchment onto the bed, you threw your head back and let out a long sigh. Your mind was positively reeling with all the things it could or couldn’t have been, “but I also knew that he has always been fiercely protective of those he loves.”

“Does he love you?”

“I would wager that at least once he did,” you turned your gaze back to Oberyn who was perched at the edge of his desk, rubbing his chin in thought, “when we were young children. He was one of my only - if not my only - friends back then. My brothers never paid me much attention and the other children never seemed to like me much. He became a common theme in my life.”

“Then I do not doubt he would have done something like this for you,” Oberyn concluded as you shrugged your shoulders. Your only real worry was about him ever getting caught, if he had actually committed this crime. But he was a smart man and he’d never made it obvious, “I told you that things always right themselves.”

“What do we do, Oberyn?” you asked, a slight sense of dread seeming into your bones. At least your husband was more worldly and experienced and could provide some sort of support right now, “I don’t want anything horrible to happen.”

Your Prince strode over slowly, looking regal as ever as he picked up the parchment and held it over the flame of the candle on his bedside table. The parchment instantly caught fire and started to burn and ash away, leaving not even a trace behind, “we do and say nothing. We’ve heard of this horrible tragedy and we move on. Everyone knows our relations are tense at best, and I don’t think we must do more than that. What do you think?”

“I think you’re right,” you turned to him with a sordid expression, “I can’t say I’m horribly moved by this, but I wouldn’t say that publicly. I suppose we offer condolences and move on with our lives.”

“An excellent idea, my Sunshine,” he reached over and tenderly touched your cheek, “now, let’s get some rest. I have a feeling we have many long days ahead of us. I’m not as young as I used to be - hopefully I can still keep up with the children.”

“You have nothing to fear, my love,” you beamed at him, “we’ll manage - together. Just like always. I...I love you, Oberyn. Very, very much, and it only seems to grow by the day.”

“And I love you infinitely, Sunshine.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[maswritingblog]

Unexpected - an Oberyn Martell oneshot

Summary: After spending one night with Prince Oberyn Martell, Cecilia returned to her father’s castle with every intention of pretending she hadn’t had the best night of her life. That is until she discovers she is with child, just in time for Oberyn Martell to pay her family a visit.

Warnings: None, really. Just a feeling a worthlessness, pregnancy if you are triggered by that.

{A/N: I got the idea for this from a dream I had, figured I should write it out. It is VERY long, I apologize. This could also potentially become a series if people want it to.}

It had been a bad idea, of course it had. On the list of bad decisions she’d made in her life, this one may have just beat them all. But she had been mistreated her entire life, made to feel like she was nothing and would always be nothing…and he had treated her like she was something so precious. Gods, she had felt so much better in his presence for one night than she had felt with her family her entire life.

But it had only been one night, and she had returned to being nothing the next morning, her little secret tucked away in her mind to think about only when she was in her chambers late at night.

Secrets found a way of coming to light, though, and hers decided it would make itself known in such a cruel fashion.

She had thought she could put it behind her, go back to living a meaningless life as if it had only been a fantasy, but then she realized she had missed two of her cycles. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with a child, or how she would even manage; her family would surely use this as more reason to torment her. Worst of all, they probably wouldn’t even attempt to marry her off to save her honor because she just wasn’t worth it.

Her already insignificant name would mean even less once it got out.

So, she hid it away, just like that night, and for another missed cycle it seemed like a decent plan, but she knew there would come a time when she would not be able to hide it anymore. She needed to do something, needed to help herself the way no one else would help her.

She planned to run away to a place where no one knew her. At least if she was on her own, she could lie and say her husband had perished and left her to raise the child alone; on her own she could attempt to save her reputation.

The morning of the day she planned to leave, he arrived.

Her father had announced as they were breaking their fast that they would be hosting the Prince of Dorne and some of his people as they passed through on their way back home. She had nearly choked on her food when she heard.

She had never thought about seeing him again, never imagined that was a possibility. The racing of her heart was not enough for her to give up on her plan of escape, however, she would never assume a prince would want anything to do with a child he had sired one night in a city that had not been either of their own.

There was to be a feast in honor of the prince’s arrival, she would simply slip out while her family was distracted.

~~~~~~~

That evening, the festivities had begun. She had already packed a small bag of only the things she thought she could not live without and stashed it somewhere close to the servants’ entrance; she would wait until the right moment and slip out through the many passageways she had played in as a child. She knew the castle like the back of her hand, it would be easy.

She had not expected how seeing him again would make her feel. As she stood with her family waiting to greet the prince and those traveling with him, her heart was pounding in her chest. When she spotted him, walking forward with a beautiful woman on his arm, she felt her knees might buckle.

Oberyn was still as handsome as he had been that night, more beautiful than anything that deserved to be within the walls of a home she had grown to hate so much. Her father was first to greet him, but she could hardly hear the words he was saying with the rushing in her ears. It wasn’t until her father began to present her sisters that she focused.

As he introduced the oldest, Rosalia, and the middle child, Emilia, he boasted about each of their talents in whichever hobbies they had taken up as Oberyn simply nodded in acknowledgment from where he stood.

“And, finally, my youngest, Cecilia.”

Her father didn’t brag on any of her accomplishments, though she had just as many as her sisters, and it didn’t surprise her in the least.

The prince’s deep, brown eyes, eyes she could remember above her so clearly, were on hers, and if he remembered her, he did not indicate it in any way. His expression flickered briefly at her father’s lack of words following her name, and the lips she knew too well parted.

“I’m sure this one has talents of her own, as well.” He said simply, that accent washing over her.

She hoped he wouldn’t notice her blush, but naturally he did.

“We have prepared your rooms, as well as a feast for this evening.” Her father ignored the comment.

Oberyn nodded. “Ellaria and I should like to settle in after a long journey, but a feast sounds wonderful.”

Servants were ushered forward to lead them away, and Cecilia tried not to think too much about how his eyes lingered on hers as he moved passed her, Ellaria’s eyes also studying her curiously.

She wondered if she knew about that night.

~~~~~~~

The festivities were in full swing, and Cecilia found herself nervous. She watched people dancing from her seat at the end of the table, far away from her father and their royal guests, and waited for her moment.

She hoped nobody would notice, that she could escape before she had to look Oberyn in the eyes again. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it if he approached her.

The time came once her sisters were asked to dance by two men from a neighboring family that had come for the feast. With the two older women away from the table, it was acceptable for her to stand as well. She moved slowly, skirting around people in the room until she reached the doors.

The final glance she took wasn’t hesitance to leave this place, she had left it a long time ago, but to make sure there were no eyes on her. As usual, she was forgotten by everyone.

At least that’s what she believed.

The hallway was dark, the torches not having been lit yet since everyone was in the great hall. She didn’t need light to find her way, though.

There was a large portrait hanging on the wall that looked like an ordinary painting of one of her three times great-grandfather, but behind it was a passageway that had been used long ago for allowing servants to navigate the castle easier. It hadn’t been used for that purpose in many years, but she had found herself in it several times.

Before she could so much as slide the portrait aside, a voice stopped her.

“I thought you might save me a dance.”

She stiffened, heart suddenly racing in her chest at his voice. It had haunted her dreams in the best way for many moons. She faced him, knowing this would either delay her escape or stop it all together.

“Your Highness.” She addressed him, dropping into a curtsy quickly.

Even in the hallway only lit by moonlight, he was beautiful.

He stepped forward, a playful smirk on his lips. “I thought I told you to call me Oberyn?” he mused. “Your Highness is so formal, especially for someone who has known me so closely.”

Gods, he must know what his voice did to her, there was no way he didn’t.

Cecilia took a steadying breath. “I did not think you would remember someone like me. I thought it best to pretend formalities were still necessary.”

He was still moving towards her slowly, eyes raking her frame in a way that almost made her shiver.

When he reached her, his hand lifted to brush her hair off her shoulder, the tips of his fingers ghosting against the skin of her neck and setting her on fire. “How could I forget someone like you?”

He said ‘someone’ differently than she did. She did not put much value in it, while he seemed to make the one word seem like everything.

“Will you join me for a dance?” He asked, those haunting eyes flickering over her face before locking on hers.

Her father would certainly love to see his least favorite child dancing with a prince instead of her older sisters, he would be most displeased with her. If only he knew how she had done much more than dance when she had met him, that she carried the proof of that inside her.

As much as she longed to show her family up by dancing with him, she knew she couldn’t if she wanted to leave. Fortunately, she had spent her entire life saying just the right words to placate those around her, to keep them happy enough to leave her be.

“I would love to,” she told him with a small smile. “I just need a moment alone, away from all the noise.”

Unfortunately, he had more to say. “Your father has spent the entire night trying to push your sisters on a prince, and yet he has not said a word of his youngest.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, instead offering him a small smile. She was sure it didn’t meet her eyes. “My father would never wish to push me on anyone, least of all a prince.”

Oberyn frowned, brows furrowing at her words. He looked confused, even a bit concerned, and he glanced back towards the great hall for a moment before his eyes were on her again. “And why is that?”

Cecilia shrugged one shoulder, trying to fight back the sudden nausea; whether it had anything to do with her condition or with the thought that she had just exposed her father’s hatred towards her to Oberyn wasn’t clear.

“Ask him yourself and I am sure he would have plenty to say about it.” She replied quietly, feeling small even under his warm gaze.

He seemed to notice her change in mood, the frown on his face deepening with worry, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Cecilia—"

She needed to leave, she didn’t have much time and her window was closing. She interrupted him, even though it would be improper in any other setting. “I would very much like to dance with you, Your Highness. Would you wait for me in the great hall?”

Though he had more to say, and still appeared concern about her words, he seemed to understand she wished to be alone. And maybe he sensed something else, because his hand slipped into hers and he brought her knuckles up to brush his lips against them.

“I will wait all night if I have to.” He told her softly, accent lilting and warm eyes caressing the features of her face once more before he backed away. His eyes stayed on hers a moment longer, and then he turned and disappeared back into the party.

She moved quickly, slipping through the opening behind the portrait and letting it fall back into place behind her, a tear slipping down her face as she realized she would never see his beautiful face again.

~~~~~~~

Many moons later, Cecilia was settled into a village a long journey by sea from her own home. She found herself happier around the people in the village than she had ever been at home, and they treated her better than she probably deserved.

The story she had spun, of a husband who had passed and left her with nothing more than the child growing in her womb, was believed by everyone she had told it to. The elderly man and woman she lived next to took good care of her, doting on her the way she had always dreamed her family would. The only thing she hated was the looks her swollen stomach received from those around her, the pity for a woman alone with child. She was close to having the baby, it would only be two more moons if her calculations were correct.

One day, she was returning from the river with a wooden basket of linens when her neighbor approached. The elderly woman gripped her arm firmly, leaning in close to whisper to her.

“There’s a man in your home.” She told her, causing Cecilia’s heart to drop. “I offered him tea at our home while he waited, but he insisted. He seems awfully important.”

Her first thought was that it was her father. While he would not care she was gone, he might care about the way her disappearance had no doubt tarnished his reputation. If he had come to collect her, she was not sure what she would do. Or what he would do when he saw she was with child.

She thanked the woman and waited until she disappeared into her home before she looked down at her stomach. Her dress was a little loose, but not loose enough to hide the roundness there. She held the basket in front of her and hoped it would be enough to conceal it.

But when she entered the house, she was surprised to find it was not her father who had come for her.

Her shock at seeing a prince of all people sitting on the old furniture that he been gifted to her by her neighbors was almost enough to make her drop the basket, but the idea of him knowing was enough for her to tighten her grip.

“Your H-Highness?” she choked out. “What are you doing here?”

Oberyn motioned for the guard that stood on the other side of the room to leave them. Once the man had stepped outside, Oberyn’s eyes were on her. “I waited for our dance, but you never came back.”

She felt only a slight hint of shame. “Is that why you are here? To dance?”

He stood from the dusty lounge and stepped towards her. “I am here because I heard some rumors that concerned me.”

Cecilia gripped the basket tighter.

“The servants at your father’s castle have a hard time keeping their mouths from running. Ellaria heard something quite interesting about you.”

He was stepping closer, and she moved backwards for every step until her back hit the wall and she felt trapped. He knew, how could he know? How could anyone back home have known?

“Your handmaid mentioned that you had not had your cycles in several months. That you had returned from your trip to a neighboring country with something more than what you were supposed to.”

Gods. Why had she not thought of that? She should have pricked her finger and smeared blood on her sheets to hide it. How had she been so stupid? And now what? Would he be angry at her? Would he want to hide her away so nobody would know of his indiscretions?

Her throat was tight, she could not even bring herself to respond, not even to try and deny it.

“If that is true, then you have taken something very important to me, and hidden it away.”

Important?

He was in front of her now, and he reached forward to grasp the basket, pulling it from her arms despite her reluctance to release it. As he placed it on the floor, his eyes were trained on her stomach, where his suspicions had been confirmed. His face didn’t appear to be angry, but perhaps he was just good at hiding his emotions.

“Did you know that night? Is that why you left?” he finally asked, eyes meeting hers once more.

She blinked her burning eyes, a couple of tears dropping down her cheeks as she swallowed. “Yes.”

He studied her for a long while, his face remaining the same as it had been when he had begun speaking. Finally, his hands raised towards her face, causing her to flinch hard. He froze.

“I would not harm you.” He assured her, eyes softening before he brushed the tears off her face gently and cupped her face in his hands. “Why did you run?”

His gentleness was startling and unexpected. “My-My father, he would have been angry. He would have hid me away in some far tower, at least if I hid myself away I could be free.”

Oberyn’s thumb brushed the apple of her cheek before his hands dropped from her face. “I am sorry you had to leave your home because of me. Why did you not tell me that night that you were with child?”

She swallowed, and found her face felt cold and lonely without his hands there. “You are a prince and I am…nobody important. I did not want to ruin your reputation. And I did not think you would care.” She said honestly.

There was a small grin on his face. “You do not know much about me, do you?” he wondered in amusement, turning to wander back to the lounge, although he did not sit. “In Dorne, bastards are cherished as much as those who are born within wedlock. In fact, I have eight bastard daughters of my own, and I love them each very dearly.”

Cecilia tried not to show her shock too much, for fear he might mistake it for something else. Eight daughters? And he genuinely loved them and cared for them? Raised them and acknowledged them as his own? Maybe she had been really wrong about her idea of him.

“I would like for you to come back to Dorne with me.” Oberyn continued.

She finally found her voice. “Y-You want me to go to Dorne?”

He nodded. “I will care for you and the child. A new baby would be very welcome, my youngest is already on her fifth name day.”

“Y-You want me to go to Dorne?” she repeated, still in shock.

Oberyn offered her a gentle smile, returning to stand in front of her and taking her hands in his. His eyes were warm and welcoming. “I would never force you to join me, but believe me when I say that I would very much like to know you. And to know our child.”

It wasn’t what she was expecting when she had found him in her home. She expected anger, expected him to disown the child immediately and never wish to see her again. She did not expect him to clearly love the child so much already, to want them in his life.

She stopped thinking about it and nodded. “O-Okay. I’ll go to Dorne with you.”

[arcadejohn127-9]

ok so,,, *slides u mc idea* (YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT TO!!! I JUST WANTED TO SHARE THIS!!!)

MC that doesn't have any energy during the day, just moping around all tired. But from like, 12 AM to 6 AM, really energized and would go out and do the most Chaotic Shit TM. You know when you just come up with some crack idea at 2 AM? MC every goddamn night. Probably tried making a bathtub fly.

(if you do want to do this, please do the brothers and the undateables ^^)

XD WHY IS THIS ME???!!!!! I'm always so tired and never leave my bed but it could be 1 am and suddenly I rise from the dead and just do random things around the house

Though these aren't chaotic, mostly just the boys trying to stop you as they're tired and want to sleep but you're messing around too much. I tried to base it off my own activities and things that would seem funny - sorry if you wanted something more chaotic but I couldn't think of anything

Lucifer:

When he learned about your strange late morning/early morning shenanigans

He saw it was a way for you to finally get your school work done

Every room - and I mean EVERY - had a textbook from your different class with notes, he goes to bed late so he put them their before he tucked in for the night

He could hear your distress at the continuous reminder of work you needed to do

You knew this was his work so you went to his room

Climbing on his bed and just walked over his body

"Stop it, I'm trying to learn how to replicate the set ups from home alone."

"You can do that after doing your coursework, I'm being merciful with you, don't push it."

You just threw yourself down beside him

Pretending to suddenly fall asleep and began to loudly fake snore

You remained like that whilst Lucifer tried to ignore you

He took this as a sign of war

He was going to monitor you all day if he has to, he refuses to let your bad grades affect their image

But you got bored of snoring and left

He felt relief; his desire to sleep over weighing his desire to force you to study

When you came back with a toy gun you altered to shoot golf balls he knew thing's weren't going well

"The-more-you-pressure-me-the-more-I-won't-study."

You shot at his lower body between each words

This was definitely war

Mammon:

He was sleeping just fine until he heard his car rev up

He bolted awake and saw that his car was on, a string of curses coming from inside

He knew of your weird habit of becoming energised at ridiculous times but he wasn't expecting you to do this

He could tell it was you by your voice

He stormed up the stairs towards his car

"Oi! What are you doing in my car? Go to bed!"

You finally were able to turn off the car, just leaning on the wheel casually as if you didn't just accidentally turn it on

"I'm just cruising~ nothing to see here!"

He wasn't amused

He got you out of his car and strung you over his shoulder, scolding you for being so irresponsible and slightly bragging about how much trouble you'd be in if it weren't for him

You tried to explain you were just pretending to drive but you saw the keys still inside and got curious

He just threw you on his bed and held you, hiding his blush in his pillow

You let him fall asleep but when you tried to escape it ended up with your shoulders in a head lock and your ass stuck in the air

It seems your productive night has came to an end

Levithan:

It was a fifty - fifty chance that levithan was awake or not

But Lucifer gave him an earful about staying up late as it's effecting grades

So you betted he was asleep and your desire to game and wonder aroulnd his room set itself in motion

What made it awkward, was when you came in you heard a suspicious girly moan come from his headphones

You both just stared at each other, unmoving

"Uh- this isn't- this is just a dream, this is definitely not happening."

You checked out the game he was playing; recognizing it to be a dating sim he's been following the development of

You just nodded, shuffling over to his set up

"Scoot over dream levi, I wanna see the hot babes."

He got even more embarassed; face completely red as you sat on your player 2 chair

You put your hand on his, forcing his finger to click the mouse and watched what was happening on screen, listening to the loud music from his headphones

Luckily, the voice acting was just suspicious - like most animes - and it was a fairly cute game

You did end up swirling around in your chair aroulnd his room

Both of you coming up with strategies to get the best girl to like you

Though, too much moving and spinning made you and the chair fall over

You bonked Into his bathtub, your ribs squishing against the rim after the trip

Levi let you make all the gaming decisions to make up for it

Satan:

He planned to have some late night reading, hoping it'll make him tired enough to actually sleep

He found you sitting on the floor in the library

Torn books and littered paper was surrounding you

Then he noticed the paper stars and cranes pouring out from your lap as you froze mid fold

"That's....a thousand stars and cranes - where did you get all this paper from?"

"......the books belonged to me before you assume anything!"

He slowly nodded

He wasn't a fan of the destruction of books but they were yours so he couldn't say anything

He felt odd just leaving you in the barely lit library

Just folding paper who knows how long

He asked if you were hungry, guessing you've been awake for a long time

You just shoved paper into your mouth and began chewing

He was horrified

You immediately spat it out, cringing

"that was a bad idea.... that was gross."

He's going to get you food

When he came back he felt more energised; walking around will do that for you

So he decided to just stay with you whilst you folded the many pages of your destroyed books

It was around 6 am when you finally yawned; Satan fell asleep already

You looked at the fire place, your tired brain screaming for arson

He woke up as he heard your fits of poorly muffled giggles

You were throwing your stars in the fire as you sat a fair distance from it

When you threw the cranes, accepting some didn't fly far enough and didn't burn, he asked what you were doing

"It's survival of the fittest, only the strongest cranes survive in this paper world."

Asmodeus:

You were already in his room, you've been sleeping in it almost all day

So when you finally got out you looked around, spotting the makeup kit he got in a sponsorship

He lets his brother's or you use it as it's a spare

But if you touch his stuff; you will perish

So you decided to use that one, practising all sorts of looks and tried not to laugh when you made yourself a clown

You decided to stay in the clown makeup and go into his practice room

What was his practice room?

Well, he hates exercising Infront of people as he'll be sweaty and his hair will get ruined

So that's where he goes but the real magic was the pole in the middle of it

You felt a spark of inspiration

Looking up tutorials on your phone on how to pole dance

It did not go great

You were sliding too fast

Falling over and when you tried to spin, you would just get stuck

"I love you but if you keep disturbing my beauty sleep I will throw you out the window."

He was grouchy; his hair was barely smoothed out and arms crossed

You hugged the pole you were slowly sliding down; a long loud screech coming down

You definitely felt like a clown

"Sorry- you look handsome already so is there really any need for beauty sleep?"

He blushed, agreeing he was beautiful before giving you a "I will end you" smile

You got the hint, flattery wasn't going to work

Perhaps your pole dancing adventures can wait

Beezlebub:

He was aware of your strange energy burst at night, you were talking about it with him the other day

He's been wondering if he would ever spot you and tonight he did

He found you in the kitchen

Just chipping away at the frost on the top of the freezer trays with a small knife

He crouched down behind you, picking you up

Beel let you sit on his thigh and began to eat anything he could get his hands on

Meanwhile you were aggressively stabbing the formed ice

"Why are you doing that?"

He grabbed a handful of the ice chunks that fell from your stabbing

"Not sure what I want to do tonight and the build up was bothering me."

He didn't need to know anymore, just nodding and letting you do your own thing whilst he ate

He cleared out the entire fridge in no time

Letting you eat anything you wanted whilst you were hard at work

He noticed one part of the ice wasn't giving it to your stabbings

He just gripped it and easily broke it off

You thanked him and ignored how he was able to eat the big block with breaking it

Whenever something was too stubborn he would just break it off for you

It went on like that until you were satisfied

You closed the empty freezer and turned to your assistant

"Good work, but I'll need your help again, I can't reach the top cupboard and I know it's big enough to let me sit in it."

He got to eat more so he had no issue, helping you get into the cupboard once he was done clearing it out

Belphegor:

You were so energised yet you couldn't think of what to do

You put a spell on you to stop you from feeling pain and began to let yourself roly-poly down the hallways

You penciled rolled abit too fast at one pointand ended up thumping down the stairs

You were thankful the spell worked

It got to the point you just kept rolling around until you couldn't anymore

You padded the broom closet

Immediately doing a double take when you noticed a body In the darkness

You went over and turned on the closets light

"is there a reason you're sleeping in the broom closet?"

Belphie was grumbling, trying to hide his face from the light

He glared up at you for disturbing his sleep

"Is there a reason you're rolling around the house?"

"Touchè."

You ended up dragging belphie around the house

You felt like you committed a crime and it was fun

He was fast asleep and you were bored

You dragged him by the ankle and tried to keep his body from banging into anything along the way

You ended up bumping into Beel, he was looking for his twin, and he noticed you were dragging him

Belphie slightly woke up, waving at his brother before going back to sleep

Beel carried the two of you back to the his bedroom; hugging you both

If it weren't for these warm beefy arms you would be free! Free to terrorise all the shadows in the room

You gave up your night activities when even Belphie wrapped an arm around you

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Dia was sneaking around the house, hoping not to run into his butler

He didn't want be to be sent back to bed

He was planning to have a light night snack and see how you were going

He knew you were always doing something during the nights, it surprised him when he found out because you were always in bed whenever he saw you

He checked your bedroom and didn't see you in your bed

Suddenly, he noticed a pile of black by his feet

He saw you, scrunched up on your back with the little D's covering your body, all hugging you

"oh! I almost didn't spot you under there, are you alright?"

"I'm great~ you should join me."

The little D's You were able to scratch were purring in their sleep

He found the sight adorable as he crouched down

"I'm teaching them to love me so they can willingly become armour for when I take over the Devildom - we'll be like the rat king!"

He just quietly laughed; the prince helping you pet and scratch the little D's

He agreed you'd make a good ruler

Though he had to force himself to be silent as you started chanting whispers of 'You will be my armor' and 'rat king'

Decided to leave you and your brain washing, going to the kitchen like he intended

Though when he walked past your room again you and the little Ds weren't there

He found you in his room, pouting and dangling off the chandelier

He helped you down, asking what was wrong

You told him the little D's banished you from the cuddle pile because you kept trying to make them move as one being

He patted your head and told you you'll become the overlord some day

Barbatos:

"Why are you making pudding at 3 am?"

He already knew why, just like he knew you were here hence why he visited you

But that didn't stop him from asking

He knew you liked it when he showed his intrigue in things even if he already knew about them

"my hands demand to CREATE- oops sorry - hopefully that didn't wake anyone."

He was always surprised to see you up and about during the nights

He was always the one looking after you in the morningsa; making sure you ate and had a drink

Whilst you just laid in bed, always barely awake and unmotivated

He stayed with you, watching over you as you made your pudding

Making soft spoken discussion as he guided you through any steps you seemed to become hesitant in

You ended up making 10 batches of pudding

Barbatos eating a few whilst he watched you

When you grew bored of pudding making you ate the cups he didn't eat

Saving a few for lord Diavolo in the fridge

He complimented your pudding, telling you that they were very delicious

You felt proud; having a spark to make more food

He told you what would be best during this time of night and helped you

Though it did end up with the both of you covered in flour and barb slipping on a dropped egg

You both thought it was best to clean up and stop for the night

He was very embarassed he made a fool of himself

Solomon:

He didn't expect to find you in his working space

He knew you would be awake but didn't even think of you doing what you're doing right now

"is there a reason you're drinking my potions like their shots? I must say this is rather interesting - how many did you have?"

You wiped your mouth, your hiccup coming out as exploding bubbles

You looked at the small glass viles, and saw ALOT of them empty

More than you realized

"uh- 3?"

he just chuckled, reading the notes you made

The notes was recording what each potion did to you

He was thankful you remembered this was his safe batch

Unknown to him you in fact did NOT remember and was having a Russian roulette game with them

He sat with you, making a cure for your explosive hiccups

You happily drunk it and felt better

He laughed more when he saw your scribbles; drawing what happened to you

Solomon will be making you his potion tester from now one so beware

Simeon:

He was an early riser; awake by 3 am and usually did some writing or watched TV until he got tired again

He had a mug of tea, shuffling through the dorm

He's hung out with you plenty of times whilst you cure your late night boredom

But he was surprised when he saw you in the living room, mini flashlight in your mouth and scrubbing the floors with a sponge mop

"Oh, you don't need to clean - that's very sweet of you but don't you think it's abit early to do this?"

You looked at him, semi blinding him with the flashlight

Immediately took it out of your mouth and apologized

You agreed it was but you wanted to do it as you've been meaning to for the past week

He just nodded, letting you do your own thing whilst he enjoyed his drink

But you suddenly felt awkward; no longer wanting to clean now that someone was in the room

You made your way over to him, climbing on the coffee table and jumping onto the sofa

He was curious on why you weren't doing your thing anymore

"dunno know, just feels awkward when people watch me do stuff."

He suggested leaving you be, saying he'll stay in his room

But now you felt bad because he wanted to rest in the living room

In the end, he helped you clean and you both fell asleep in the bathtub, cuddling up with towels working as padding and a blanket

Luke:

You liked creeping Luke out

It was fun, so far you've convinced them that you're a type of demon that watches bad children whilst they sleep

But really you just wanted to feel like a cryptic, sitting in the corner of his room on a cupboard

It wasn't long for him to wake up from your staring

"I'm going to tell Simeon if you keep staring at me."

You wanted to laugh; he really was a child

Luke wasn't aware that you were a night owl, he just assumed you were always tired and sleeping

He liked to help you around the house and look after you when he could

It almost made you feel had

Almost

He's been extra stubborn about liking the Devildom to the point he's Been insulting his friends and trying to push them away

"Luke, you've been very bad, pushing your friends away just because they're a demon isn't good - embrace your friendships."

You weren't amazing at changing your voice but it seemed to work on him

He complained that it wasn't right for angels and demons to be friends

But you quickly reminded him what this whole exchange program was about

"you have been chosen to help fix the divide between the three realms, just hang out with the people you care about or I'll eat your toes!"

He immediately got scared, scrunching into himself and only peered slightly out of his blanket

He made you promise to leave him alone if he made up with the demons

You agreed, feeling bad for disturbing his sleep but thankful your plan worked